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Mother’s Request
An allegorical poem expressing the spiritual struggle of our mother, whose eldest son was killed by a band of robbers while he was conducting a caravan of wagons with the family possessions to our new home during the Russian Revolution in the autumn of 1918. In this poem, she refers to herself as the child and to God as her father. Written in German by Elisabeth Elektra Dirks Rempel in 1920 and translated by her son, Arthur, in 1961.
There stood a frail little child,
Clasping her Father's hand,
Along the narrow trail of life
Up to the fatherland.
The child was so happy, gay,
And sensed she never fear,
She fled at once in her distress
To have her Father near.
The child carried in her hand
Fine toys, both large and small,
Her Father granted these to her
His child to enthrall.
And carefully upon her breast
She wore some tender blooms.
These flowers were her deepest joy
And rendered sweet perfumes.
Then came an angry, vagrant giant,
Begrudged the child’s glad hour,
And tore her toys away from her
And crushed a precious flower.
The child wept, the child cried!
“Oh, oh! My lovely flower!
Oh Father of compassion, mine,
Why this in all your power?
“Why did You not, in all Your might
Tear my dear flower away?
What have they done with it alas,
In this most cruel display?
“That all my toys are broken, gone!
That also makes me smart,
But that my flower is destroyed
That almost breaks my heart!
The Father places now His hand
Upon the child’s head.
“Now turn your eyes to me, my child
Now follow where I lead.
“Now learn forgiving, dearest child,
As I’ve forgiven you!
Hate and revenge you must dispel
From heart and spirit too!
“Now learn to love, as I love you,
The sinner, not the sin.
Then surely in the end you will
The soul’s peace truly win.
“And your dead flower I lifted up
And took it to my heart,
And set it into heaven’s realm,
There it will not feel smart.
“It blooms there in a better land
More beautiful than e’re
It could bloom in this desert land
With so much sin so near.
And so your other little flowers
That wilted heretofore,
They grow luxuriantly above
Bloom sweetly, evermore.
“Look forward to the fatherland,
And turn this your mind,
And I will lead you with my hand
And help you, peace to find.
“Ye, Father, You are strong and good,
And I am bad and weak.
Do make me strong, and make me good,
Teach me Your way to seek.
Help me believe, in faithful trust,
That you are guiding right,
That I, though hard the way may be,
Am guided by Your light.
“Teach me to love, as love I must,
You, Father, evermore,
And, though frustration now my lot,
My neighbor as before.
“Give Joyful hope back to my heart,
And joy and happiness,
That I, in spite of pilgrim’s pain
Remain the child You bless.
“Let me not loose from Your strong hand!
Keep me within Your sight!
‘Till in the upper fatherland
I praise You in our light.
“You surely are my spirit’s Source,
And You refresh my soul.
You set my ailing heart aright
And guide me to my goal.
“You are my father, I’m your child,
And Christ, the Savior mine,
Redeems my from my guilt and sin
And anger, fear and pain.
“You are my helper in distress!
You soften all my pain.
Your own to be, oh Lord of Hosts,
Is still my richest gain.
“Though now my highest blessedness
By suffering is dimmed,
I also know that through distress
For Heav’n one is refined.
“I praise You, and I honor You!
Accept my humble praise!
How much You've done, oh mighty God
My broken soul to raise!
“Your flower I would like to be,
Bloom here and there for Thee
With children You have given me
Through all eternity!”
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