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The HarvestThis write is not of produce born Nor hands that picked Green fields of Corn It's not of Grapes nor of GOD'S wrath But is for all who stray the path It's not of Apple that Eve would bite Seduced Adam, who hid from sight But is of you GOD'S pure delight Ignoring might who gave us light This seed was born within your soul That knows not Him who cried behold To her who knelt before the cross Crying for Him who paid the cost The irony unseen, ignored by man Is how our fate was bared by hands Where nails would drive but not the point Into your heart CHRIST can anoint It's not desert made of the fruits Of so called labor in you that suits But of the price, His blood would shed To nourish man, not tail but head Some will read this simple write Choosing to mock and also spite A message birthed today for them Who GOD calls to, no time to lend The Harvest needs each worker now To take a stand and not to bow Away from Him who made today For you to start to change mans way Go out and speak and win a heart In this cold world that's torn apart For it is you that needs to pick The Harvest now, the lost and sick Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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