The good gardener plants a seed among the thistle and the weed |
"The Gardener, the whisper and the seed" A seed was planted by the riverside In a time when goodness filled the air The caring Gardener will help it grow Among the weed and thistle there As time drew on, and roots took hold It found that it was well in need Of the Gardener’s caring hand Among the thistle and the weed Strong it grew, beyond compare Its seeds were taken by the wind Finding rest in fertile ground They sprung to life to honor Him High above the thorns it stood Stretched outward, far in autumn sky Gazing the span of wood and earth It hears a whispered lie “You’re the reason you belong” the whisper said “To carry on so endlessly The Gardener who sows wide the span Does not want you here so free "The grandest by the riverside You boldly rule the air and ground Who by earth can well compare There is none to be found "And look, the thorns that wind so low They’re no burden for you to stand You no longer need the Gardener’s care To keep them from this fruit of land” So there it stood to ponder well The whisper’s brief, beguiling song In time its pride grew past reproach Hence, bid the Gardener to be gone As time drew on, a season came A wayward spell like none before It dried the land a darkened gray The rains that swept they came no more With thirst the thorns grew far and wide Wrapped up around the grandest seed Their hold grew stronger and deeper still longing to quench their wretched need Still in the realm, the Gardener’s hand Took care of those of lowly will He kept the thorns at distant ground And groomed the land with caring till The grandest by the riverside Grew weaker as the season passed Its sides did wither in the winds Each breath became a trying task It glanced its last over the span The grandest of all other seed And in death it whispered its silent cry Among the thistle and the weed |