Poetry Thursday

This is both a poem and a prayer ... and I believe it is a sentiment which most of us share. Certainly I am sufficiently Martha-like in forgetting the contemplation that must accompany the busy-ness to sanctify my work (why else did she get pegged to be my patron saint? and, here I thought I was choosing her!) Thanks to Deacon Greg for this one.

Lord of all pots and pans and things,
Since I've no time to be
A saint by doing lovely things or
Watching late with thee,
Or dreaming in the twilight or
Storming heaven's gates.
Make me a saint by getting meals or
Washing up the plates.

Although I must have Martha's hands,
I have Mary's mind, and,
When I black the boots and shoes
Thy sandals, Lord, I find.
I think of how they trod the earth
What time I scrub the floor,
Accept this meditation, Lord,
I haven't time for more.

Warm all the kitchen with thy love,
And light it with thy peace,
Forgive me all my worrying
And make all grumbling cease.
Thou who didst love to give men food
In room or by the sea
Accept this service that I do
I do it unto thee.