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All flesh is grass and all its goodness like the flower of the field The grass withers, the flower wilts and the word of our God stands forever Indeed, the people are grass. Isaiah, 40:6-8 |
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It's Sunday afternoon. Behind my mower I do my best to cut the tall grass lower So that new shoots which to the light aspire Can see the sun, take strength and reach up higher And not grow small and stunted in the shade Of some much older well-established blade. That is the way the world exists. In truth Death is a harsh fate for old age, and yet, it's kind to youth. Please Lord, let grass remain forever green In that spot of Thy lawn where I have been. |
Author and Curator: Dr. David P. Stern
Mail to Dr.Stern: david("at" symbol)phy6.org .
Last updated 15 May 2002