The Gardener
My soul wintered in a valley of grief, Bitter icicles clung
jealously to all that I touched.
Cold and hateful, my snow-bound thoughts, Lifeless and barren
in that once fertile land.
The Gardener brings spring to my frigid soul. Gently melting
its layers of ice,
And surely stripping through its layers of rot, He lovingly
plants His garden.
He carefully nurtures His sweet blossoms rare. Love, Hope, and
courage bloom in the sun.
The twisted brambles and deadly weeds Withdraw their poisonous
roots from my soul.
The garden is fruitful, the Gardener generous. With Christ as
the gardener of my soul,
I will reap a harvest of living fruit. Eternally nourished, I
will bloom in the Son.
by Nancy Marie