My brother had a sweater he liked to wear.
He wore it every day and everywhere
until it shrunk and hardened in the suds of life,
but then he gained another, new for old
and generously priced, a bargain, fair.
That sweater speaks to me of vain attempts
to stitch myself a psychic coat of pseudo lace,
a sinful, selfish yarn that perishes and fades.
Rejoicing now with thankfulness of new for old
I wear Love’s gift, a covering of sacrificial grace.
New Zealand born Mary Trim, who writes as Marye Trim, has a PhD in English Literature (Loughborough, UK, 1998) and studied journalism at the University of Queensland, Australia. She has authored five published books and hundreds of inspirational articles, stories and poems and was a newspaper columnist for nine years, while also working as missionary teacher in India and Thailand. She feels called to writing ministry and sees herself as akin to those “Out of Zebulon, they who handle the pen of the writer” (Judges 5:14).
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