Labours of Hercules
forethought, one does not abandon hope.
It is the vision which draws us on, the
Of striving and dedication which lets
The feet of man, which left their
In mud for millennia, followed in tracks
Of king and saviour,
And dictator, walk across water,
Work willingly to the desired end,
Upon the cross or on the scaffold, down
Common streets or in the corridors of
The feet of Christ have walked ahead
And will return upon a path of
When we have stepped beside those feet
Unshod, hardly fleshed, bruised,
Brown or pale, scorched or cold.
Our feet have strolled across the seabed,
Surmounted Everest, skipped on the moon.
Think of all the moves of men through
What they wanted, how they schemed
Or sacrificed. God through Jesus
Led the way from cradle to mountaintop
Releasing light into the world, shining
Over all our exits and our entrances,
Our missions and meanderings
busy globe. When we press
The laboured stage with humble knees
In the act of
service, the soul can play its part.
In the drama of our life there are many
In darkness, of differing degrees, many fears
And triumphs, but can you
The utter power of light that streams from Heaven,
That poured through
Christ and enters
Into hearts of ranging race and religion?
In this hell or
camp of famine, prison
Or penthouse of every fad and comfort,
Can we do any
more to bear that power
Than join with others in that giving?