0186 Praise

'Whatever that you think you lack - give that! ' - this saying, heard, lodged in my mind a space; like seed that seems inert - yet, not inert; its hidden clock an instrument of grace; the mind, that soil which meanwhile does not know: it neither knows what lies in its embrace, nor its own precious nutrients which grow that seed; nor knows the Sower; nor His grace - until the day that in some Spring of light, I realised: I, meanly, denied - praise: the praise of human beings in my sight; and thus, the praise of that one source of praise. so sought occasion, each and All to praise; now Praise, with golden hand, seeds all my days.