Protected by Moses' law for the gleaner,
Stranger and fatherless gleaning in Palestine
Reached out for the olives
Left at the top of an uppermost bough
Or at the end of the widest-flung branch,
Gratefully searched through leaves turned autumnal
For scattered grapes missed by the gatherer's hand,
And stooped humbly retrieving
Grain shattered out of the harvest sheaves.
May we, then, gleaning in Spirit's rich harvest,
Patiently reach for the law hard to grasp,
Gratefully search out the statute eluding us,
Stoop humbly for some truth affronting our pride—
Heartened the while by Love's ever-presence,
Freely imparting the knowledge of all good.