The cool clouds cluster ‘neath my touch,
	White snow on ice blue sky;
My fingers froth up waves and clutch
	The silver salt sprayed high.
And as I stall, he slowly walks,
	He speaks of sacred things.
The people harken as he talks,
	Of faithfulness he sings.
While I, the summer’s gentle breeze
	Pose questions to the shore, the seas:
“Who is this man,” I ask aloud
	“To catch and captivate the crowd?”
So quick the throng has grown, so grand
	That none can see his face.
It forces him beyond the sand,
	Preach from a further place.
He boards a boat upon the sea,
	“Put out,” his strong command,
Not harsh, but sure and quietly free:
	“Push out, away from land.”
He waits for silence, to be heard,
	The crowd is muted, not a word.
His eyes intense, so strong his voice
	To feed their thirst, make souls rejoice.
As each receives the lesson, clear,
	Resounds from sea the word
Of planted wheat, of list’ning ear,
	This parable is heard:
  
                                    1975

 	There was a man who went out to sow.
	As he scattered the seed in the field,
	Some of it fell alongside the path,
	So that later, the birds came and ate it up.
	And others fell upon rocky land,
	Where the soil was shallow.
	These sprang up at once,
	Because they had not sunk deep in the ground.
	but as soon as the sun rose, they were parched;
	They had taken no root,
	And so they withered away.
	And some fell among the briers,
	So that the briers grew up and choked them.
	But some seed fell upon good soil,
	And these grew and bore grain:
	Some a hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold.
	Therefore listen, you that have ears to hear with.
						Mark 4:3-9