My Life is But a Field

plowing(1)_jpg!Blog

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Life is But a Field

The dark brown mould’s upturned
By the sharp-pointed plow;
And I’ve a lesson learned.

My life is but a field,
Stretched out beneath God’s sky,
Some harvest rich to yield.

Where grows the golden grain?
Where faith? Where sympathy?
In a furrow cut by pain.

Maltbie D. Babcock

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