Poems (Clark)/God's Meal

by Annie Maria Lawrence Clark

GOD'S MEAL

An Old Dutch Custom.

All the long day swift busy feet
 Had traversed homely household ways,
Where lowliest duties, wrought through love,
 Gave added wings to prayer and praise.
Fair in the fields the maytime bloom
 Fringed hedges green with tips of snow;
And bits of heaven's own blue smiled out
 From sedgy bank, and beckside low.

Far in the West the clouds had wrapped
 Their curtains round the setting sun;
While home-bound steps, and restful smiles.
 Proclaimed the week's long labours done.
Saturday night, and pious souls
 Saw "God's meal" spread with loving care,
Counted "God's wages,"—giving thanks
 If gain or loss had been their share.

Good Vrow Van Stralan, at whose touch
 Life's roughnesses seemed smoothed to calm,
So learned was she in His sweet ways,
 Whose helping hand is soft with balm;
Had made the week a robe of grace,
 And fringed it round with loving deeds,—
With 'broidered pictures, blue and gold,
 Of self forgot for other's needs.

And now with eyes in whose clear depths
 The peace of Heaven sweet radiance gave,
She watched for one whose home-bound sails
 Floated adown the northen wave,—
Auke Van Stralan, whom her heart
 Read worthy love so fond and dear,—
A young, brave soul, swift to obey
 When Duty's summons sounded clear.

And while the evening's purple haze
 Falls like a benediction round,
"God's meal" is spread, and 'mid the hush
 Of waiting, comes the welcome sound
Of the dear voice, the ringing step,
 And all the house is quick with joy,—
With tears and smiles and tender words,—
 "Thank God, thank God, my boy, my boy."

********

The blessing said, they gather round to share
 "God's meal," that ends the busy week,
And count "God's wages,"—joys and pains alike,
 With quiet gladness and with patience meek.
Each tells his tale of trial or of joy,—
 Of tasks completed, smooth or rugged ways;
And each in ending adds the same refrain,
 "God pays sure wages, unto Him be praise."

On Auke's hand a golden circlet bears
 The household motto, simple, strong and pure,—
Carved o'er the doorway, graven on each heart,
 "God's work alone brings wages sure."
And as he tells the story of the days,
 Many and long since last "God's meal" he shared,
Each heart, each voice, sings gladly, "Praise the Lord,"
 "For work, for wages, for the household spared."

And so "God's meal" is eaten, and the day
 Ends, wrapped about with night's encircling calm;
Each heart is filled with tender, brooding peace,
 Sweet as the incense of a Sabbath psalm.
Thus week by week in pious homes they count
 God's Providences, "wages" of His love,
And in "God's meal" see type and promise sure,
 Of glad reunion in the home above.