The Mist And ROI

“A sower went out to sow”, You said one day;
It seems so strange for You to talk that way
About Yourself, both then and about today;
Then speak about the seed along the way.

Indeed we encounter soil that’s packed as path,
Which calls for gentle rain till soft last;
For trample of many footsteps on their way,
Has hardened hearts of folks some view as prey.

So often, Lord, the folks with the hardened hearts,
Are gentle types who trust as they take part;
Reminding us of innocence we should show,
We do at times – to cover sin we know.

O Lord, I pray for innocents in my path,
Help me to give them aid and not just pass;
Not fear the same result will happen to me,
But bring refreshing rain that they might be –

Renewed of heart and soul for having been by;
Encourage deep within not just to lie
In hopeless desperation as time goes on,
But soften to the rain as to a song.

For one day sometime hence when hurting has healed,
When seed has taken root its crop to yield –
Abundant crop, one hundred for every seed –
They’ll know the day You sent the rain they need.

We all get hurt, but some of us gentle are;
When they get hurt, it covers with a scar;
No longer soft, with openness to your seed;
I thank you Lord for sending rain the need.

There’s eighty days ’till frost hardens up the land;
A different kind of hard you understand;
For that’s a time when farmers can take their rest,
’Till spring returns and work resumes with zest.

Sabbatical and scarring quite different here;
They both resist the seed though it is dear;
For in the spring the fields soften up again,
But hard-packed earth stays crusted from the pain.

At times we wish the rain with its softening mist,
Would work with speed so soil would not resist;
But You send rain with plenty of time to spare;
Sometimes, as seed, our role is waiting there.

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