Thy Tenderness
Thy Tenderness
At times it seems the path I walk becomes callused by the indifference of sin. I trample as it were roughshod over my Father's love. It is as though I trod through meadows soft and green-laden with the comely faces of buttercups. I observe the tender lily too whose countenance turns upward towards heaven's sunlight. I tread as it were carelessly and without regard upon these tender ones crushing and breaking their sensitive skin.
In my rogueness, I pause and wonder why they do not reply against me, why do they not cry out in defense of their hurt. I behold with awe as they silently give forth glory to God. Mutely they lie there still. Their lovely visage whispers no judgment against me when I know I should really stand condemned. Deep in my heart I say, “How can man bruise such beauty, taking no thought for the hurt he leaves behind.”
Each time man is stout in heart; the rebuke of the innocent could rise against him, but does not.
“Why,” I ask, “Why?” And then I know, because of love--love who in forgiveness has adorned the rocky hillside and covered the barren places too.
He knows the blindness of my way, the hardness of all my notion.
My feelings at last awakened--I pray, “Oh Father, bend my stubborn will, for often I have trampled upon Thy love, even as upon these gentle ones who do not complain, but send forth their fragrance still, asking no reward.
“Dear Lord, help me to walk softly by the way, that others too may pass by here, to breathe Thy heavenly scent and to behold the wonder of Thy goodness towards all mankind.
“Father, redeem my soul from cold regard and guide my footsteps too. May I sense the tenderness of Thy way, never more to tread upon Thy love with back turned wayward. Amen.”
-- Warren D. Rogers