Hay: the search
Feast of Oswald, King of Northumbria, Martyr, 642
And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.
—Galatians 4:6-7 (ESV)
I sought Him where my logic led.
“This friend is always sure and right;
His lantern is sufficient light.
I need no Star,” I said.
I sought Him in the city square.
Logic and I went up and down
The marketplace of many a town,
But He was never there.
I tracked Him to the mind’s far rim.
The valiant intellect went forth
To east and west and south and north,
But found no trace of Him.
We walked the world from sun to sun,
Logic and I, with Little Faith,
But never came to Nazareth,
Nor met the Holy One.
We sought in vain. And finally,
Back to the heart’s small house I crept,
And fell upon my knees, and wept;
And Lo! He came to me!
... Sara Henderson Hay (1906-1987), A Footing on this Earth: Poems, Doubleday, 1966, p. 214 (see the book)
See also Gal. 4:6-7; Ps. 27:8; 69:32; Pr. 8:17; Matt. 6:33; 7:7-8; John 5:39-40; Acts 2:21; Rom. 2:7; Heb. 11:6; 1 John 4:19
Quiet time reflection:
You loved me first, Lord.
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