By Kristine John
In life, I tend to try and do things alone.
I consider myself resourceful and strong much of the time, and hesitate to use such words as prideful or stubborn.
Upon reflection, it is when I truly struggle that I truly realize that I am never alone...and that I simply cannot do anything without the ultimate Healer.
This poem speaks to my heart...and I feel the need to share it here.
The Carpenter of Nazareth
By George Blair
In Nazareth, the narrow road,
That tires the feet and steals the breath,
Passes the place where once abode
The Carpenter of Nazareth.
And up and down the dusty way
The village folk would often wend;
And on the bench, beside Him, lay
Their broken things for Him to mend.
The maiden with the doll she broke,
The woman with the broken chair,
the man with broken plough,
or yoke,
Said, “Can you mend it, Carpenter?”
And each received the thing he sought,
In yoke, or plough, or chair, or doll;
The broken thing which each had
Brought
Returned again a perfect whole.
So, up the hill the long years
Through,
With heavy step and wistful eye,
The burdened souls their way
Pursue,
Uttering each the plaintive cry;
“O Carpenter of Nazareth,
This heart, that’s broken past repair,
This life, that’s shattered nigh to death,
Oh, can You mend them, Carpenter?”
And by His kind and ready hand,
His own sweet life is woven through
Our broken lives, until they stand
A New Creation—“all things new.”
“The shattered [substance] of [the] heart,
Desire, ambition, hope, and faith,
Mould Thou into the perfect part,
In Nazareth, the narrow road,
That tires the feet and steals the breath,
Passes the place where once abode
The Carpenter of Nazareth.
And up and down the dusty way
The village folk would often wend;
And on the bench, beside Him, lay
Their broken things for Him to mend.
The maiden with the doll she broke,
The woman with the broken chair,
the man with broken plough,
or yoke,
Said, “Can you mend it, Carpenter?”
And each received the thing he sought,
In yoke, or plough, or chair, or doll;
The broken thing which each had
Brought
Returned again a perfect whole.
So, up the hill the long years
Through,
With heavy step and wistful eye,
The burdened souls their way
Pursue,
Uttering each the plaintive cry;
“O Carpenter of Nazareth,
This heart, that’s broken past repair,
This life, that’s shattered nigh to death,
Oh, can You mend them, Carpenter?”
And by His kind and ready hand,
His own sweet life is woven through
Our broken lives, until they stand
A New Creation—“all things new.”
“The shattered [substance] of [the] heart,
Desire, ambition, hope, and faith,
Mould Thou into the perfect part,
O, Carpenter of Nazareth!”
That tires the feet and steals the breath,
Passes the place where once abode
The Carpenter of Nazareth.
And up and down the dusty way
The village folk would often wend;
And on the bench, beside Him, lay
Their broken things for Him to mend.
The maiden with the doll she broke,
The woman with the broken chair,
the man with broken plough,
or yoke,
Said, “Can you mend it, Carpenter?”
And each received the thing he sought,
In yoke, or plough, or chair, or doll;
The broken thing which each had
Brought
Returned again a perfect whole.
So, up the hill the long years
Through,
With heavy step and wistful eye,
The burdened souls their way
Pursue,
Uttering each the plaintive cry;
“O Carpenter of Nazareth,
This heart, that’s broken past repair,
This life, that’s shattered nigh to death,
Oh, can You mend them, Carpenter?”
And by His kind and ready hand,
His own sweet life is woven through
Our broken lives, until they stand
A New Creation—“all things new.”
“The shattered [substance] of [the] heart,
Desire, ambition, hope, and faith,
Mould Thou into the perfect part,
In Nazareth, the narrow road,
That tires the feet and steals the breath,
Passes the place where once abode
The Carpenter of Nazareth.
And up and down the dusty way
The village folk would often wend;
And on the bench, beside Him, lay
Their broken things for Him to mend.
The maiden with the doll she broke,
The woman with the broken chair,
the man with broken plough,
or yoke,
Said, “Can you mend it, Carpenter?”
And each received the thing he sought,
In yoke, or plough, or chair, or doll;
The broken thing which each had
Brought
Returned again a perfect whole.
So, up the hill the long years
Through,
With heavy step and wistful eye,
The burdened souls their way
Pursue,
Uttering each the plaintive cry;
“O Carpenter of Nazareth,
This heart, that’s broken past repair,
This life, that’s shattered nigh to death,
Oh, can You mend them, Carpenter?”
And by His kind and ready hand,
His own sweet life is woven through
Our broken lives, until they stand
A New Creation—“all things new.”
“The shattered [substance] of [the] heart,
Desire, ambition, hope, and faith,
Mould Thou into the perfect part,
O, Carpenter of Nazareth!”
(This poem was quoted in Brother Jeffery R. Holland's April 2006 General Conference talk.)
Beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing it. It's always a fine line on what we can/should or actually DO when we are taught to WORK LIKE EVERYTHING DEPENDS ON US but PRAY LIKE EVERYTHING DEPENDS ON THE LORD... it does make for "resourceful and strong" people who sometimes border on "prideful and stubborn." But, we each have so much to offer and we do need to do our part. Even though WE think we are doing this or that, a brief moment of introspection tells us where that drive and ability really come from, a divine source indeed.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the sweet reminder.
I think it's a Mormon failing in a way that we often depend far too much on ourselves. There's an old Baptist hymn that has a line that runs "Oh what peace we often forfeit" because we rely on ourselves instead of turning to Him as a child would to a parent.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kristine. This poem is so full of emotion, of new insights, and I have the feeling it will give more every time it's read. Thank you for sharing. My own perspective feels enhanced.
ReplyDelete