[Written for the Sentinel]

Harvest

It is not hard to frame a harvest songWhen trees are sweet with blossoms in the spring,When the soft showers vie with the constant sun,And lush grass gives abundant pasturing.It is not hard to praise, when the strong herdGives goodly increase, and the golden grainFills eager barns to bursting; when the fruitFalls on the happy ground like summer rain.And yet,I thank Thee for lean years,When I have knownThat all my joyWas in my God alone.

It is not hard to praise when skies are fair;When winds blow soft, our harps sweep merrily; But in some sense-stilled moment we may hear,"These things the Gentiles seek," and, "Follow me."Not well-filled barns, nor golden fruits piled highInspired the prophet's joy; heed his word:"The labour of the olive shall fail . . ."Yet I will rejoice in the Lord."And so,I thank Thee for lean years,When I have knownFull freedom to rejoiceIn God alone.

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Understanding God
October 8, 1921
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