Poetry

I found this poem by Cecily Hallack (author of Adventure of the Amethyst) and I thought I'd share.

The Divine Office of the Kitchen

Lord of the pots and pipkins, since
I have no time to be
A saint by doing lovely things and
Vigiling with Thee,
By watching in the twilight dawn,
And storming Heaven's gates,
Make me a saint by getting meals;
And washing up the plates!

Lord of the pots and pipkins, please,
I offer Thee for souls
The tiresomeness of tea-leaves
And the sticky porridge bowls!
Remind me of the things I need,
Not just to save the stairs,
But so that I may perfectly lay
Tables into prayers.

Accept my roughened hands
Because I made them so for Thee!
Pretend my dish mop is a bow,
Which heavenly harmony
Makes on a fiddle frying pan; it
Is so hard to clean,
And oh, so horrid! Hear, dear Lord,
The music that I mean!

Although I must have Martha hands,
I have a Mary mind,
And when I black the boots, I try
Thy sandals, Lord, to find.
I think of how they trod our earth,
What time I scrub the floor.
Accept this meditation when I
Haven't time for more!

Vespers and Compline come to pass
By washing supper things,
And mostly I am very tired, and
All the heart that sings
About the morning's work is gone
Before me into bed.
Lend me, dear Lord, Thy tireless
Heart, to work in me instead!

My Matins are said over night to
Praise and bless Thy name
Beforehand for to-morrow's work,
Which will be just the same;
So that it seems I go to bed still
In my working dress.
Lord, make Thy Cinderella, soon
A heavenly Princess.

Warm all the kitchen with Thy love,
And light it with Thy peace!
Forgive the worrying and make
The grumbling words to cease.
Lord, Who laid breakfast on the shore,
Forgive the world which saith,
"Can any good thing come to God
Out of poor Nazareth?"