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.