The splinters that surround us speak
Of fields of newly ripened corn;
We do not have to cross the globe
To find those set to be reborn—
The shattered hearts cry out for love,
But we so quickly pass them by;
When will we see we hold the salve
For which their dying souls have cried?
The fields are ready in our towns,
If we can see the pain they bear;
It’s love they need, not our rejection—
Are we the priest who didn’t care?
But if we can become the neighbor
Who helped the beaten man find rest,
Through us they’ll see our Savior
Bestowing love on the oppressed;
If we can piece their hearts together
Through us they’ll feel Christ’s gentle hands;
And when they see He lives today
They’ll gladly follow His commands—
If we can learn to step in faith
Where Christ positioned us today,
It is our lives that serve as guides
To help them find the narrow way.
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