I found a slasher, rusted bad;
I scrubbed with resolution.
With stone I sharpened up the blade,
then swung it with volution.
I found that even with the tool
as fresh and sharp as ever,
to cut the grass was slow and grueled
my body with its tether.
I found a lesson hidden there:
that work has, from the ancients,
been blazing trails and felt unfair
for progress comes with patience.
Upon the shores of water still
I found a stone made straight and smooth
by tool and eye of mason past.
The sand beneath was soft and damp
and with a branch I dug a hole
sufficient for the stone to stand.
Then with a fulcrum, up I raised
that stone to mark the days til now
and Ebenezer on it scrawled.
The stone in sand will not long stand
but days have gone and rooted fast
as will the future roll and fix
I fix my eyes, through hazing toil
and deepest rest, devotion, strife,
renew my strength and lean on grace.
(His grace has brought me safe thus far
and He will lead me home).