Poetry Day - Nothing but pain

I thought I'd give you another Amy Carmichael poem. This one alludes to the widow of Zarephath in 1 Kings 17, who thought she was destitute, with nothing left in the cupboard to give, then the prophet Elijah came along and asked her to bake him a cake of bread, which she did in obedience, and from that point on her flour and oil never ran out. Elisabeth Elliot (in The Path of Loneliness) expands this poem to the idea that our lives are a living sacrifice (Romans 12:1) and that a broken and contrite spirit is good material to be offered up in such a sacrifice (Psalm 51:17).

I suspect Amy Carmichael has borrowed a line from Christina Rossetti's poetry, a line that Christina's brother Dante considered one of her finest, from the poem (Later Life) which gave me the title of this blog: "Its very song-bird trails a broken wing".

"Charity never faileth" by Elspeth Young

Nothing in the House

Thy servant, Lord, hath nothing in the house,

Not even one small pot of common oil;

For he who never cometh but to spoil

Hath raided my poor house again, again,

That ruthless strong man armed, whom men call Pain.

I thought that I had courage in the house,

And patience to be quiet and endure,

And sometimes happy songs; now I am sure

Thy servant truly hath not anything,

And see, my song-bird hath a broken wing.

...............................................................................

My servant, I have come into the house-

I who know Pain's extremity so well

That there can never be the need to tell

His power to make the flesh and spirit quail:

Have I not felt the scourge, the thorn, the nail?

And I, his Conqueror, am in the house,

Let not your heart be troubled: do not fear:

Why shouldst thou, child of Mine, if I am here?

My touch will heal thy song-bird's broken wing,

And he shall have a braver song to sing.

Amy Carmichael