This is another of my mother's "saved" poems.
It dates back to the 1930's when she and my Daddy, like many
other parents, were raising a family of four children
during The Great Depression. The times were very difficult
and there were no luxuries.

PRECIOUS GOLDEN GRAIN

by Jennie Wilson *

My life so narrow, so narrow,
Environed by four square walls;
And ever across my threshold
The shadow of duty falls.
My eyes wander off to the hilltops.
But ever my heart stoops down.
In a passion of love to my babies
That helplessly cling to my gown.

In the light of a new day dawning
I see an evangel stand;
And to fields that are ripe for harvest
I am lured by a beckoning hand.
But I have no place with the Reaper;
No part in the soul-stirring strife;
I must hover by babies on the hearthstone
And teach them the lessons of life.

I must answer their eager questions
With God-given words of truth;
I must guide them in ways of wisdom
Through childhood and early youth.
I must nourish their bodies
With infinite watchful care.
Take thought of the loaves and fishes,
And the raiment that they must wear.

But at night when lessons are over
And I cuddle each sleepy head;
When the questions are asked and answered
And the last little prayer is said;
When the fruitless unrest has vanished
That fretted my heart through the day,
Then I kneel in the midst of my children
And humbly and thankfully pray.
Dear Lord, when I stand with the reapers
Before Thee at the set of the Sun;
When the sheaves of the harvest are garnered,
And life and its labor is done,

I shall lay at Thy feet these children.
To my heart and my garments they cling,
I may not go forth with the reapers,
But these are the sheaves I shall bring.

---

* After having this published on my website for a year,
a kind lady, Maria Russell, informed me of the author.
She had in her possesion a copy of "The Christian Herald,"
dated February 14, 1900, which I was able to purchase from her.
It has a picture of Jennie Wilson on the cover
and the article names "Precious Golden Grain"
as one of the many songs that she had written.
I had not known the author until she informed me.
Thank you, Maria.

---

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