I was given an orchard
To tend and to manage
Many long years ago
That has since grown savage
I cared nothing for pruning
Neither harvest nor toil
I cared nothing for weeding
Or tending the soil
Yet as day lay setting
I survey what was mine
And there'll be no breads
Or late summer wines
For the grain fields have perished
The arbors are thin
No figs on the bough
'neath these gables of sin
I'll reap what I have sown
Which is little of worth
For Him who so gifted me
With rich fertile earth
I must seem ungrateful
With so small a yield
Of the promise of bounty
From orchard and field
Pitiful in comparison
To His mercy and grace
I am filled with shame
To be given a place
As a welcomed honored son
Oh, what mercy is mine
To be so utterly loved
By One so graciously kind
ELAshley
071207.075430.6
Peace.
b
Read Matthew 20:1-16 for a comparable application. The parable was not at all in mind when I was writing.
The poem took all of 15 minutes to write and remains largely unedited except for the final four lines-- I toyed with those for about an hour afterward. It's funny how somethings just come to you, and you wonder afterward where it came from.