Poetry

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A special time from childhood
When the Quaker way I walked.
Were the Sunday morning meetings
When a few, or no one, talked.

When the Spirit was invited
Into every heart and mind,
And a solace like no other
In that Meetinghouse we'd find.

On those dear and sacred mornings
We would walk in, take our place
Upon that narrow wooden pew
That spoke of saving Grace,
And our voices rose in singing
Blessed hymns from long ago...
'Twas then the heart was strangely touched...
You'd feel your spirit grow!

In memory I now recall
Those First Day meeting times;
The sweetness and the meaning
Playing gently on my mind.
The 'shape' of what I am today
Was formed by times as this,
And those First Day meetings long ago
I'm glad I didn't miss!

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