By David De Jong

The harvest stands ready in wide open fields,
Promising bursting fruit and record yields.
The seeds long planted and tended with care,
Carrying portions as only they can bare.

They toil not of circumstance, whit or whim,
But serve their sole function, through thick and thin.
The winds have toppled some, where storms gave way,
Yet cling to their foundation while they lay.

Some were picked early, food for foul and doe,
Still serving purpose, from their stately row.
Simple providence brought forth from a seed,
Ample produce, supplying all in need.

The grains will combine and be milled for bread,
As days of old, that all souls might be fed.
Souls to be fed that will hunger for more,
Hunger unsatisfied from any store.

I know of a seed, its purpose held true,
Planted on earth, from a heavenward view.
For bread of life, true redemption and peace,
Found simply in repentance on our knees.

This bread of heaven, made with bleeding hands,
Stands prepared and ready throughout the lands.
The seed knows its purpose and carries through.
This seed has been planted, deep within you.

Take time to acknowledge the Creator’s gift,
His bridge over hell’s impassible rift.
Take faith in His calling, answer His heed.
Follow His leading and harvest the seed.

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