Once I held a treasure

I held a treasure in my
hand, it came I knew
not how. Could not
believe I'd been so blest
to see it gleaming there;
did nothing to deserve it
nor had I dreamt its
coming. I marveled at
its presence and
wept to think 'twas
mine. Alas, there comes
a day when it is
asked of me to willingly
release it. The Master
of my life stands waiting
patiently. . .Shall I
clasp this treasure to
my breast? Argue that I
want it and the joy
that it affords? How
can my soul endure
the loss of this, my
precious trove? When at
last I deign to yield
it, must He pry my fingers
free? Have I not the
pow'r to loose it, as it
was giv'n to me? Do I not
know the Giver excels
the grandest gift?

By my dear friend Betty Henry Taylor