Lord of the Harvest

He walked through towns, and dusty lanes,
Where sorrow slept and sickness reigned—
With healing hands and heaven’s grace,
He met each need, each weary face.

He taught of peace, He preached the light,
He broke the chains of death and night;
Yet when He saw the helpless throng,
His heart was stirred, His love was strong.

Like sheep without a guiding voice,
They wandered far, without a choice;
No shepherd near, no steady hand—
Just scattered souls across the land.

He turned and spoke with earnest plea:
“The fields are ripe, as you can see.
The harvest waits, the time is now—
But few will come, and few will bow.”

So lift your eyes, O child of grace,
There’s work to do in every place;
The Lord still calls both day and night:
“Send forth My hands, My voice, My light.”

If this poem stirred something in your heart, remember that the deepest roots grow from God’s Word itself. “Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee” (Psalm 119:11). If you’d like simple, practical help in tucking Scripture into memory…

👉 Sign up for the free FAST Crash Course in Bible Memorization: http://fast.st/cc/21419