God Has A Little Acre


A poem about how God works on me despite my failed efforts to improve.

God has a little acre

he planted all his own.

My life is His little acre,

where precious seeds are sown.

He removed stones and stick and rubbish

And made it a place where love has grown.

And All is well when he works it,

You see, it is his own.

When God is working in my life

His wonders to full fill.

Plants and pulls and labors,

The stubborn earth he’ll till.

He makes all thing ready for life and growth and joy.

Using all the tool at his pleasure

Some we would never chose to employ.

But when he leaves the garden

For me to tend while he’s gone

It’s seems my life has trouble,

And it doesn’t take very long.

The fences crumble, the weeds thrive.

The vines get limp and brittle.

It seems I’m not much a gardner

When in His garden I fiddle.

So I yeild to Him the vineyard

To do His mighty will.

I confess I made quite a mess

When I try to do His will. q

But soon under His careful hand

The garden grows again.

For to let Him be the gardener in me

Was always His perfect plan.

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