Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Sabbath, by Wendell Berry ~ April is Poetry Month


Sabbath
The mind that comes to rest is tended
In ways that it cannot intend:
Is borne, preserved, and comprehended
By what it cannot comprehend.
Your will, not ours. And it is fit
Our only choice should be to die


Into that rest, or out of it.
Our only choice should be to die
Into that rest, or out of it.



Your Sabbath, Lord, thus keeps us by
Your will, not ours. And it is fit
Wendell Berry 1934-

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