The Gardner

Bent on his knees
Sickle in hand
He dreams of trees
Tilling the land.
Nothing bothers him -
Neither sun nor heat nor toil
Jaw set grim
He works at the soil.
Fertile and ready
Sows he seeds in a row
Untiring, steady
Then awaits the green show.
Gives them water, minerals, love
Rejoices, as they begin to grow
Fending them - uprooting the weed
Many an hour, sweat on his brow
To the trouble he pays no heed.
Remembers the hour when they were but seed ...
On he labors, bent on his knees,
And dreams of trees.


For it is God who works in you to make you willing and able to act according to his good purpose.

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