Poetry

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He gave to us this fallow field
and asked that we might sow
a hundred thousand different seeds
and watch a harvest grow

He put into our hands the tools
the ox and sharpened plough
and sent us out to turn the soil
plant not someday but now

Not ever asked to toil alone
no tasks with labels “mine”
the field was His, the labour ours
no drawn dividing line

We planted potent seeds of love
through kindness on display
and sprinkled seeds of living hope
through lifting words each day

We searched out seeds of spirit truth
and planted wisdom deep
sowed endless joy and laughter loud
and sorrow’s tears to weep

We sowed the seeds of mended life
through hands that touched to heal
With subtle fragrance soothing souls
we learned again to feel

With lifted heads and upraised hands
we planted jubilant praise
We sang our Saviour’s victory hymn
that set our hearts ablaze

We scuffed our knees to rid the field
from bitter weeds of hate
Wielding faith and warrior prayer
we battled long and late

We sowed our seeds not sparingly
not from the miser’s hand
but freely given, we freely gave
and richly sowed the land

Today we see the harvest in
His church, this vibrant place
and the world sees a reflection of
the Father’s loving face

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