Sermon In A Stocking

The supper is over, the hearth is swept,
And in the wood-fire's glow,
The children cluster to hear a tale
Of the time so long ago.

When Grandmamma's hair was golden brown
And the warm blood came and went
O'er the face that could scarce have been sweeter then
Than now, in its rich content.

The face is wrinkled and careworn now,
And the golden hair is gray,
But the light that show in the young girl's eyes
Has never gone away.

And her needles catch the firelight
As in and out they go,
With the clicking music that Grandma loves,
Shaping the stocking toe.

And the waking children love it, too,
For they know the stocking song
Brings many a tale to Grandma's mind
Which they shall hear ere long.

But it brings no story of olden times
To Grandma's heart to-night;
Only a ditty, quaint and short,
Is sung by the needles bright.

"Life is a stocking," Grandma says,
"And yours is just begun;
And I am knitting the toe of mind,
And my work is almost done.

"With merry hearts we begin to knit,
And the ribbing is almost play;
Some are gay colors and some are white,
And some are ashen gray;

"But most are made of many a hue,
With many a stitch set wrong,
And many a row to be sadly ripped
Ere the whole is fair and strong.

"There are long plain spaces, without a break,
That in youth are hard to bear,
And many a weary tear is dropped
As we fashion the heel with care.

"But the saddest, happiest time is that
We court and yet we shun,
When our Heavenly Father breaks the thread
And says that our work is done."

The children came to say good-night,
With tears in their bright young eyes,
While in Grandma's lap, with the broken thread,
The finished stocking lies.

by Ellen A Jewett

Ecclesiastes 12:6-7 Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.

photos and graphics by Mary Stephens
2017 - CA