Scattered Seed
A farmer plants the Word,
To grow for being heard;
We are merely like seeds,
Growing amongst the weeds.
Some seed fall on the rock,
Where the roots cannot lock;
Then they just wither and die,
As to whence where they lie.
Some may fall on soils,
That have hardened toils;
Satan grabs them away,
Causing to go astray.
Some may fall in the thorns,
Where another seed scorns;
As stress strangles their life,
Not coping in the strife.
But seed sown on good earth,
Yields a fantastic birth;
With a harvest that seems,
Reaps beyond all your dreams.
Hidden treasures will grow,
Where His Word will flow;
Reaping of the best fruit,
Where the seed can deep root.
--Richard Newton Sherrer
Copyright ©2009 Richard NewtonSherrer
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Scattered Seed
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