Poet's Pen

My Garden

Day by day at work in the soil,
    Row by row in my garden I toil.
I plow and seed it, then send living water
    its way.
I fertilize and weed it, and give light
    for each day.

If any plant comes up producing nothing at all,
    I'll remove it from my garden be it summer or fall.
Unto those that remain and bring forth a good crop,
    I continue to prune them, to bear fruit and not stop.

My eyes run to and fro to see my garden growing,
    Though storm and wind may blow, my love for it keeps showing.
I tend to my garden, I care for it dearly,
    When it's attacked by pests or with disease stricken severely,
I come to its rescue with mercy, grace and aid,
    For my most prized possession, my flesh and blood have I paid!

Being Lord of the harvest I know this is sure,
    My good fruit bearing plants will live and endure!
The time is drawing near when I shall bring them to my table,
    A feast I will prepare, they are mine and I am able.

So in every thing give thanks for this is My will.
    Get ready to dine with Me, watch and pray even still.
Surely the righteous will give thanks unto My name,
    The upright shall dwell in my presence, holy and without blame!

by John Roberto

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