isola scribe

shake your groove thing, shake your groove thing, yea, yea.... show 'em how to do it now

Monday, December 12, 2005

A Poem for Bonnie

A Plot Of Weeds
by: Mildred Ramsey

As I stood and admired God's wonderful world
As a garden of beautiful plots.
I said,"Father, where would you have me to work?
Just assign me some nice little spot."

Then He turned my attention to a corner of weeds
And, He said,"You can tend that for me."
And I said," Oh, Lord, not that overgrown acre.
There's nothing but briars and weeds. "

In a rose garden maybe, or a lilac lagoon
I will labor til life's race is run.
But don't put me out in some lowly ravine
Where nobody can see what I've done.

"Why people will laugh, Lord, they'll call me a fool.
They'll say this work can't be of you.
I'd much rather work in a vineyard
With folks who'll appreciate all that I do.

"Lord, I'd work and I'd toil if I had fertile soil
I would plow, I would plant and I'd seed.
For, I do want to serve in the garden of life.
But, Lord, not in an old plot of weeds."

Then I lifted my eyes to the eyes of the Lord,
And the love and compassion was plain
With infinite tenderness, He took me aside,
And gently to me He explained:

"Child, not all of my garden is level and smooth.
Many places are rugged and rough.
And some must be willing to work without praise
And to serve where the going is tough. "

And, I have chosen for you this one special task
And it's not just an old plot of weeds;
For my people are there in oppression and fear
And your efforts can help fill their needs."

He said," Aren't you willing to suffer a little bit for me
After I suffered so much for you?
Would you be so ungrateful that you would recoil
From the work that I've asked you to do?"

Then He said, "Little one, get your hoe and your plow
And go on to your garden of weeds.
Don't worry about people and what they might say.
Are you working for them or for me?"

So, I made up my mind I would give it my best
For I knew when the work had begun;
That God would send others to lighten the load
And together we’d get the job done.

And when the last harvest is finally in,
If we've worked in the sunshine and rain;
Together we'll stand at the end of the way
And we'll see what our labor has gained.

No, a garden of weeds full of thistles and thorns
Would hardly be anyone's choice.
But to work for the Lord without hope of reward
Brings contentment and cause to rejoice.

So, if you are hoeing and plowing today
Where the ground seems unyielding and bare;
Child of God, don't look back but just keep pushing on
If you know he has stationed you there.

And here is the way you can know, day by day,
That you're in the right place when you spot it;
You may grow weary and tired in God's way,
But you will never grow tired OF it.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Isola Scribe"... I like it!!! I didn't know you had a blog now, until I saw your comment on Bonnie's site. I'm impressed! And I really like the poem. Did you hear it at the women's conference? Hope all is well in Isola. I pray that rather than frazzling in the pre-Christmas frenzy, that you and Dad will spend time excessively enjoying Jesus this week! ...and it's my prayer for myself too. Looking forward to seeing you soon!
Much love, Cris

12:18 AM, December 20, 2005  
Blogger Cindy said...

I like your poem!!

11:09 AM, December 27, 2005  

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