OXEN IN THE TEMPLE

Twelve strong oxen holding up the font with gentle care,
Not one the same, each different if you look at them there,
Twelve solemn oxen carved out of marble, wood or stone.
Working together their strength sharing the load, no one alone.
Yet why twelve oxen that grace this our temple so grand?
Why so united as they all so firmly and unwavering stand?
It must send us some message, nearly everything will
In the walls of the temple, as we learn more and fill
Our minds with truths that will continue to help us grow,
So what are the twelve whole oxen, standing there so?
The twelve tribes of Israel, Jacobs fruitful seed,
Covering the earth like sands of the sea we read,
Scattered far and wide, but in the temple work as one
Till all the work for those departed is finally done.
Oh, tribes where are you? Some are lost and gone astray,
Will you ever return to the fold? Be united like the oxen one day?
Ten are lost and wandering somewhere across the world so wide,
Where are you? Come, be ready to meet the Lord, do not hide,
For you are part of Abraham’s covenant, part of his seed,
Come with hearts rejoicing and on His truth freely feed.
I love to see the oxen standing tall, firm and strong
And know that in the gospel plan is where I belong.

M Ann Margetson © September 29, 2000

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