A Poem by Edward Fudge
One day through the primeval wood,
a calf walked home as good calves should.
But made a trail all bent askew,
a crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then 300 years have fled,
and I infer the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail-
and thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day,
by a lone dog that passed that way.
And then a wise bellwether sheep,
pursued the trail o’er vale and steep,
and drew the flock behind him, too,
as good bellwethers always do.
And from that day, o’er hill and glade,
through those old woods a path was made.
And many men wound in and out,
and dodged and turned and bent about,
and uttered words of righteous wrath,
because ’twas such a crooked path.
Still they followed the steps of that calf,
who through this woodway stalked,
because he wobbled when he walked.
This forest path became a lane,
that bent and turned and turned again.
This crooked lane became a road,
where many a poor horse with his load,
toiled on beneath the burning sun,
and traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half,
they trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet.
The road became a village street;
and this, before men were aware,
a city’s crowded thoroughfare.
And soon the central street was this,
of a renowned metropolis.
And men two centuries and a half,
trod in the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout,
followed this zigzag calf about,
and over his crooked journey went,
the traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led,
by one calf, near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way, and lost 100 years a day.
For thus such reverence is lent,
to well-established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach,
were I ordained and called to preach.
For men are prone to go it blind,
along the calf paths of the mind,
and work away from sun to sun,
to do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
and out and in, and forth and back,
and still their dubious course pursue,
to keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
along which all their lives they move.
But how the wise old woods do laugh,
who saw the first primeval calf.
How sad that this poem speaks of the way many believers try to live the Christian life. Proverbs 14:12 says - “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.” And Matthew 7:13-14 declares - “Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.”
Church, let’s be followers of Christ who are not afraid of taking a different path – when Jesus so leads us. Don’t follow the wrong path that has been blazed by a lost crowd.
0 Comments on this post: