The keeper of a vineyard dreamed
Of vines alive with fruit
And tended vine and dream alike
Down years of sharp dispute,
As others came to claim the land,
To drink its fruit as spoil,
Without a grower's love of growth
Or farmer's love of soil.
The keeper had a child, firstborn,
Who came to work the land.
The malcontents desired his life
But did not understand -
This life, once it was given up,
This blood, once spilled like wine,
Would soak down deep into the ground
And rise up in the vine.
And then the plant, fresh charged, would be
Itself a vein of grace,
A way the keeper might extend
A hopeful, green embrace,
Connecting child and foe and friend,
Co-mingled an entwined,
To be and bear the fruit of God
In one life-giving vine.
- a hymn by Michael Hudson, from Magnificat, October 2020
Lovely!
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