The Rescue

It was a small thing,

Barely visible to the eye;

Easily trampled and kicked about,

When it fell into the road

Among the throngs

Hurrying on their way

Somewhere

More important.

 

Rain falling;

A torrent rushing,

Sweeping fiercely,

Forward flinging,

Halting briefly

On stones,

In gullies, swirling—

Lost in current.

 

Falling deeply

Endless cavern

Contents vanish

Hurtling downward

Powerless,

Broken, battered,

Darkness gaping and

Consuming.

 

The Father’s Son,

Lovely, pure;

Plucks it

Poor and hapless.

Rescuing, receiving,

Mercifully relieving

Intent

To bring it Home.

 

Gladness growing

At its finding

Clutching tenderly,

Close to a Heart

Sacred.

Now contenting

And relenting

To loving hands.

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