He does not go alone

this gangling boy, all legs and arms;

awkward, and gentle, and so prone

to sudden impulse. What alarms

mothers at home, praying, sleepless, tense,

are all the “what-ifs” Satan sends

as if in glee. And still I sense

he is accompanied, and apprehend

divine forethought, guidance and, when needed,

an Intervening Hand. So I would pray

in gratitude. And, having heeded

God’s promise, I can praise today.


“Thou wilt keep him in superlative

peace whose imagination

stops at Thee” (Cf. Isaiah 26:3).


Taken by permission and adapted from “Clouds are the Dust of His Feet,” by Ruth Bell Graham. ©1992, The Ruth Bell Graham Literary Trust.

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