“At least there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail.”
(Job 14:7)
And new life sprouts where old life is cut down:
See little shoots burst forth from severed trunk;
The earth is singing where its joy was sunk;
The smallest hope will make the largest sound.
And see the stump of Jesse? In the ground
Are rumblings of roots. The soil is drunk
With prayer and fear. What once was lost is found!
It shall not shout; the hope’s a baby still.
Yet stars are guiding wise men to its bed
And shepherds know the shepherd from the herd.
In winter snow, an unexpected thrill
Is stirring in the leaves. The rocks which said,
“Prepare the way,” now echo at His Word.
The Consolations of Writing 