THE HEAVENLY GARDENER
The heart's rough earth my labours cannot till,
Because it needs the Heavenly Gardener's Skill
Thus it lies waste and fruitless, 'till His hand
Works this hard and stony, barren land.
"Plow up my heart, dear Lord, that it may be
Planted with all things pleasing unto thee.
My unkept land but briars and thorns doth yield,
But Thou canst make of it a fruitful field.
Thou workest in men's hearts to will and do,
Bringing forth precious fruit, holy and true.
A heart reflecting Thine own image would I see,
Fruitfulness. unfading beauty for eternity.
Dig deep, dear Master, do not spare this ground,
Without Thee no good thing shall here be found.
Send now Thy precious showers of heavenly grace.
Light and warm it with the sunshine of Thy face,
May salvation's well of living waters spring,
Streams from Lebanon flow out and blessing bring;
Thus water Thou the furrows of the fruitful field,
So for Thy praise the earth may increase yield"
Come now north wind, and south wind softly blow,
Upon the air shall scent of all sweet spices flow,
Fair flowers, whose perfect beauty can but please
Send forth choice fragrance, carried on the breeze.
Fruits of the Spirit, love, joy, peace shall grow,
Long suffering, gentleness and goodness here below;
Faith, meekness, temperance, sweet to the taste,
"0 come to Thine own garden now. Beloved, haste!"
S. Hirst



