Oh, poor little creature thrust into the world
With fragile feelers and wings half-furled,
Fearing the unknown, dreading so soon
The challenge of life outside the cocoon.
Feeling fore-boding at freedom’s call,
Suspecting the nectar of life as gall.
You would not go forward, you cannot retreat
To the dark little world in ruins at your feet.
Shaped by forces beyond your control
To fill some mysterious purpose or role,
You struggle to free yourself. Soon you will fly
Compelled by an instinct you cannot deny.
At last you’ll arrive at your destiny
To become the fine creature God meant you to be,
Forgetting the past with its negative things
As you soar by His grace on diaphanous wings.
As with the butterfly, so with the heart
Trusting in Jesus, and learning to part
With the old life – its bondage, self-love and sin,
Heeding the call of His Spirit within,
Rising on wings of faith, to become
A lovely new creature in Christ, God’s Son,
Tasting the nectar His goodness imparts
And feeding its sweetness to cold, hungry hearts.
© Nesta F Sutherland
Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature;
Old things are passed away; behold all things are become new.
O taste and see that the Lord is good …