Jesus at Seventeen
I
CAN see him there amid the golden shine
Of fragrant shavings deep about his feet:
A lad who dealt in sturdy oak and pine,
The very air about him clean and sweet.
The forest trees were part of all his youth,
And something of their strength he made his own,
Noting their swirling grain he learned the truth
Of timber growth, the patience it had shown.
The hardy tools, the ripping saw and adz,
The plane that bit its smooth way down the length
Of roughened boards, somehow became the lad’s
Own sinewed muscles with their steel-bright
strength.
‘Twas well he worked with wood, ‘twas well he
dealt
With hardened steel to earn his daily bread;
That shavings clung about him as he knelt
To pray for grace to meet the days ahead.
˙45˙