Poems (Gifford)/Unfinished

by Elizabeth Gifford

UNFINISHED.

"Not finished yet!" Oh, I remember gladly
 How once those few words calmed much troubled thought
That had in many a pathway wandered sadly,
 For life appeared with such deep mystery fraught.

There was a little child about me playing,
 Left for awhile for me in charge to take,
And, lest some vague alarm should need allaying,
 I promised him a patchwork ball to make.

He came and looked upon it uncompleted,
 Turned inside out, as of no shape at all,
And wistfully he twice or thrice repeated,
 "Oh, auntie, that will never make a ball!"

He well might think so, well might be confounded,
 It was all unlike what he hoped to get;
But I assured him it would soon be rounded,
 And quietly I said, "Not finished yet!"

He turned to play, but came again to ponder
 How a round ball could come from such a thing;
Yet he believed me, and in trustful wonder
 He waited for the work's accomplishing.

'Twas finished soon, accepted as a treasure,
 And much delight it gave the happy boy;
Then to my heart came comforting and pleasure,
 Clustering thickly round that trifling toy.

I thought how much of life was like its stages,
 Shapeless and ragged, hard to understand;
But then I thought—God sees adown the ages,
 And His own work is safe in His own hand.

And often, now, when sin or sorrow vexes,
 And doubt and wonder hold my soul in thrall,
When all creation's travailing perplexes,
 My thoughts revert to that unfinished ball.

And 'mid earth's seeming tangle and confusion,
 Its mystery, anxiety and fret,
That seem all unlike life's desired conclusion,
 I say afresh the words—"Not finished yet!"

Then precious grows the God-inspired assurance
 That soon shall sound the glad note, "It is done!"
Mystery be finished, past all painful durance,
 Wrong, trouble, death subdued to God's dear Son.

Then shall the glory of the new creation
 Be blessing unalloyed extending wide,
Far, far exceeding highest expectation,
 Then shall desire be fully satisfied.