THE PATTERN IN THE TILE.
By Frances E. Bolton
Marvelous wonders of God unfold,
That angels are bidding us to behold,
As we walk, tear-blinded and doubt-distressed,
Wonders of love that will bring us rest,
Lessons from nature and art and story,
That tell us always of life's bright glory,—
How God works ever our souls to seal
With the glorious imprint of love's ideal;
Shaping and changing our spirits rude,
Working all things together for good,
Fitting our souls to a pattern, when
We cry with the cry of the doubt-cursed men,
“It happened so, and it all is chance.”
Yet sometimes faith clears a wide expanse,
And we view the life-path we've trod from thence,
And behold the marvels of providence,
And wake and praise for the guidance given
By the unerring Artist of life from heaven. As one who watched with kindling eye
God’s marvelous wonders in earth and sky,
There came a servant of God awhile
To look on the laying of a floor of tile. What shall I learn from this? he thought;
For it seemed that the workers aimless wrought
Here and there without plan or order.
They placed the tile on the floor and border,
And yet their looks, that were calm and bright,
Gave him hope that each tile was right. Suddenly form grew out of the blank,—
A bunch of lilies upon a bank,
A bird on a bough who sang an evangel,
In the midst the radiant form of an angel.
The beautiful pattern grew clear and clearer,
And the raptured watcher drew near and nearer. Then the workers arose, for the task was o’er,
And the whole bright pattern was on the floor,
And they greeted the watcher with joyful smile,
As he praised the pattern laid in the tile. Then to the workers he said: “Give ear;
The message of God you have made more clear.
E’en as you wrought, and I saw no plan,
So God works, and you doubt Him, man. “What seems confusion mid toil and strife,
Is a pattern-piece in the midst of life.
Trust Him; He works out the lilies sweet,
And the angel form His hands complete.
The image divine He would retrace,
And write love’s glory on life’s scarred face. “Farewell, but remember the God above
Hath a plan for each life that will tell His love.
And by and by, e’en as I have here,
You will see the mystery all grow clear.”
And the watcher passed, but he bore a smile
As ever he told of the floor of tile.