>God’s plow struck deep within my heart
And plowed long furrows, one by one,
Through fallow ground so hard and firm,
From early morn till set of sun.
The plow-share was eternal truth
Which tore the hidden roots in me
And turned them to the light and air
Till self-hood lay a field set free.
I felt Him walk each furrow plowed,
I knew He felt the briars sting,
Tie field was His– it was His joy,
For low I heard the plowman sing.
He only plowed that He might sow,
There must be seed to scatter wide.
And then I felt His presence near,
He stood in silence by my side.
And so I gave Him all of me–
My hopes, and dreams and inner throne.
All these He scattered far and near,
And left me naught to call my own.
They fell like seed in furrows deep,
And all were buried neath the sod.
All that I had went dozen in death
To wait the mighty breath of God.
He did not leave me then alone
To mourn the loss of earthly things,
To be thus stripped gave greater place
For life His radiant presence brings.
How could I grieve for heart thus plowed?
I covet now no sweeter thing
Than wait with Him till harvest day,
And in the mean time hear Him sing.
-John Wright Follette