The weary ones had rest,
The sad had joy that day,
And wondered ‘how’
A plowman singing at his work
Had prayed
‘Lord, help them now.’
Away in foreign lands they
Wondered how
Their simple word had power
At home the Christians two
And three had met,
To pray an hour.
Yes we are always wond’ring
Wond’ring ‘how’
Because we do not see
Someone, unknown perhaps
And far away
On Bended Knee.
Chrissie Robinson*
1927
* My maternal grandmother, Christina Robinson.
BUDDY BREATHING 
This is so, so lovely. thank you.
LikeLike
How lovely is this. So, you do know from where your genes for poetry came!! Nice that you honour Christine this way.
My maternal grandmother, too, had a love of words. Not that she wrote, to my knowledge, but, I do recall, as I was a teenager to a young adult, and she was in her last years, that she read copiously, had a wonderful vocabulary and used to complete a simply massive crossword puzzle weekly…. She kept the great family bible and would only allow me to take a cherished look, if I placed tissues over my washed hands, before holding the cover of the open book. I gained a respect for words (and the bible) from her. Annie Wood… made such an impression on me.
Did you know Christine, as you were growing, L-A. Have you always known this poem? Are there others?
LikeLike
I’m wondering now if this really was written by my grandmother, or simply loved so much that she wrote it down (beautiful penmanship) and then carried it in her bible… in any case, this poem was important and worth cherishing because of that. LAE
LikeLike