For a gift he received a quite beautiful dove,
With which he could cherish and learn about love.
Young children are anxious to have all they will
Of love, and affection, and of devotion their fill
He would not let go of this small precious gift
For fear of it departing and flying so swift
The dove as her nature was to fly and be free
To grow in her beauty and see all she could see
She’d always return to the place of her rest
But the young little boy knew not of this test
He began to grow weary of her desire for release
For he feared her rejection and this stole his peace
Why did she not do all of his will?
Why would she not give of her devotion his fill?
The lust for her affection drove him to rule
Ignoring his conscience which calleth him cruel
Her design as a dove became the thing of his dread
‘Til one day he found the little dove dead
His father then spoke to him of this once precious gift
How he forbade it to grow, or to fly and be swift
Son ‘tis your pride that destroyeth much good
Your fear of rejection that you’ve not understood
For you demand of this dove a thing cruel and odd
A degree of devotion belonging only to God
But God ruleth us with neither rigor nor force
For it pleaseth Him to see love as the source
With the rod and reproof in God’s way was he taught
And in silence and pain began forming his thought
‘Love is a will freely joining another
A continual choice to be yours and no other’
‘The wills must be equal in depth and degree
In order to be love, which continually is free’
He now rightly knew that pride was not so
But it would destroy and never let go.
Pride and Love he could see were both movements of will
A faint subtlety was that love does not steal
And while pride can be seen in both the cruel and the odd
Love wants the best and toucheth not the glory of God.
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