I know not but to do, and do, and do,
A fractious child who will not stop to rest,
So self-important that I heed not you,
But make and moil, of Sabbath peace bereft.
Not stilling heart or hands to rest or pause,
I tap in mind my foot, enslaved to thoughts
Of daily duties, pesky details fraught
With worry, self, the world, and earthly dross.
Yet my salvation and my strength depend
On rest, repentance trust, and quietness.
"Be still," you said. "Know God, to Him attend."
One day you set aside for this and blessed.
Not me! I would have naught but toil and do.
I early rise in vain and stay up late
To build my house and guard what only you
Can keep, this little world I would create.
Then softly but insistently you call
My name, my soul. You turn to me and chide.
"My child, you fuss and worry at it all.
Come rest, and at my feet lay down your pride."
So break my will. Lead me by waters still.
Restore my soul, refresh my heart and draw
Me from my self-constructed cage of will
To kneel to you and rest in listening awe.
- Claudia Springer