Rows of Comfort

By David De Jong

What comforts what consoles?
What brings calm to grievous souls?

To find relief from mental toil
Kneel between the rows, till the soil
Shuffling knees, the smell of dirt
Worry soaking through my shirt
Softly tending nature’s yield
Earnestly praying in the field

Ah for a man to be on his knees
Interpreting summer’s evening breeze
Harkened whispers of soft spoken leaves
Scents of freedom the clouds over-sees
Watching eagles grace the crest of trees
Who am I, surely the least of these
Given purpose, our Creator’s ease
His glory abounds upon our knees

Each row done a prayer complete
Slow to stand on trembled feet
Worries removed and cast aside
Weeds of Eve’s tempter’s pride
Each row stands clean, strong and fast
Just as my Savior weeds my past

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