Words fail me when I try to express the grief and sense of loss that I share with all that knew and loved Jason. So I turn to a dear aunt, who was like a big sister to me in my youth for words of comfort and solace at Jason’s passing.
This poem was written by my Aunt Sylvia the day of Jason’s accident as she sat in her husband’s hospital room, his life hanging precariously by a thread. While her husband survived yet another trial, she felt that perhaps the words that came to her that night might also comfort those of us who lost our dear Jason.
As I Rest
By Sylvia Brown Bourne (Jason’s great aunt)
When heavy questions press my mind
About the fabric and design
Of life the Lord would have me lead
A quiet rest is what I need
A prayer of gratitude I send
A sudden peace of soul attend
His loving promises are sure
He’ll help us - we are the threads secure
For clearly – wisely, He does view
The cloths of Heaven’s plans so true
E’en though one thread each day we weave
T’will fall in place - - if we believe
Yes! Sure we know hi s hand will guide,
The shuttle’s movements side to side –
As fully we submit our will to his
Life’s purposes we’ll fill
The bright – the dim threads and the gold
From birth – through youth and tho’ we’re old
His knowing hand will guide the way
The threads may break, the threads may frey
So tho’ the view’s unclear to me
I close my eyes - - in prayer – then see,
that heaven’s light shines ‘round the loom
Doubt – anger – fear – have left the room?
Yes one day!
One thread is all that’s given
“Hold Fast” says He – and surely Heaven
Will attend your weaving task, . . . .
If you sincerely – humbly ask!
So when heart sinks – with furrowed frown
And weavings’ burden I’d lay down –
I grasp his loving hand in prayer
And push the shuttle through my care
Somehow – some way – the day then ends –
I tie the thread.
His Peace descends
Oh yes! Tomorrow’s’ thread awaits
The colors dim – or bright the tints –
It matters not –
For faith attends my weaving
God knows best the threads
This poem was written by my Aunt Sylvia the day of Jason’s accident as she sat in her husband’s hospital room, his life hanging precariously by a thread. While her husband survived yet another trial, she felt that perhaps the words that came to her that night might also comfort those of us who lost our dear Jason.
As I Rest
By Sylvia Brown Bourne (Jason’s great aunt)
When heavy questions press my mind
About the fabric and design
Of life the Lord would have me lead
A quiet rest is what I need
A prayer of gratitude I send
A sudden peace of soul attend
His loving promises are sure
He’ll help us - we are the threads secure
For clearly – wisely, He does view
The cloths of Heaven’s plans so true
E’en though one thread each day we weave
T’will fall in place - - if we believe
Yes! Sure we know hi s hand will guide,
The shuttle’s movements side to side –
As fully we submit our will to his
Life’s purposes we’ll fill
The bright – the dim threads and the gold
From birth – through youth and tho’ we’re old
His knowing hand will guide the way
The threads may break, the threads may frey
So tho’ the view’s unclear to me
I close my eyes - - in prayer – then see,
that heaven’s light shines ‘round the loom
Doubt – anger – fear – have left the room?
Yes one day!
One thread is all that’s given
“Hold Fast” says He – and surely Heaven
Will attend your weaving task, . . . .
If you sincerely – humbly ask!
So when heart sinks – with furrowed frown
And weavings’ burden I’d lay down –
I grasp his loving hand in prayer
And push the shuttle through my care
Somehow – some way – the day then ends –
I tie the thread.
His Peace descends
Oh yes! Tomorrow’s’ thread awaits
The colors dim – or bright the tints –
It matters not –
For faith attends my weaving
God knows best the threads
