 By James H. Cagle |
The crow of the cock,
The Scripture that’s read,
The prayer for the day,
The water and bread.
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The voice of the river,
The trail of the moon,
The flickering stars,
The call of the loon.
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The path to the shop,
The plod of the feet,
The wet of the dew,
On the field of wheat.
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The chirp of crickets,
The nightingale’s song,
The fox in the brush,
The getting along.
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The croak of the frog,
The hoot of the owl,
The rise of the sun,
The tree full of fowl.
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The deer by the pond,
The painted hardwood,
The slow falling leaf,
The autumn is good.
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The smell of the rose,
The whirl of the bee,
The whispering grass,
The waves of the sea.
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The brush of the breeze,
The catch of the cat,
The bark of the dog,
The pestering gnat.
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The chop of the ax,
The help of a friend,
The bite of the saw,
The bit he would lend.
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The cut of the board,
The rasp of the file,
The turn of the drill,
The old-fashion style.
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The eye of the man,
The strength of his hand,
The craftsman at work,
The best in the land.
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The fix of the nail,
The leg to the frame,
The sand of the sheet,
The smoothness the same.
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The stain by the brush,
The joy of the heart,
The smile of the face,
The piece is rare art.
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The gift of the work,
The kind spoken word,
The life that is blessed,
The work of the Lord.
