He worshipped, leaning on his staff;
Behind him stretched a checkered
past;
A life of drifting chaff.
He might have crumpled, yet he
leaned,
And dying, still he worshipped Him
Who taught and pruned and
weaned.
Deceitful and deceived for years;
His children learned his scheming
ways
And bowed his head in tears.
Can we too feel with Jacob’s pain?
And can we own mistakes and
wrongs,
And turn it all to gain?
The Blesser still delights to bless;
A barren past bears fruit and flower,
If humbly, we confess.
C. P. H.
Passover, Red Sea and Jordan