Pollution
Some day the snowy peaks of earth in springtime won't unfold;
No rushing rivers then will fall from waterfalls so bold.
Then steaming jungles turn to arid deserts hot and dry,
and fertile lands blow dunes of sand, becoming wastelands-Why?
If flowers no longer bloom in spring and roses bud no more,
the honey bees, from buttercups, no longer honey store.
When horns of plenty flow no more from fields throughout the earth,
their seeds won't bring forth life each year; we ask, "Why no rebirth?"
When sheep give birth to twins and neither lives 奏il winter ends;
one is killed by pesticides, the other by acid winds,
or baby calves find mothers' udders empty - nursing dry,
and goats' milk comes from goats no more, the farmers wonder why!
When clouds no longer rain and morning greets no glistening dew,
and lakes with water, fit to drink, are only just a few;
the fish in streams and oceans so polluted have disease,
and creatures' reproducing stops; man asks, "the reason please!"
Until man knows the plan of God: of earth he is the keeper,
and plans ahead with love instead of always seeking cheaper;
奏il thoughtful cares and reverent prayers replace the greed he's employing,
禅he prince of the air' . . . . . . with help from man . . . .
. . . .will continue the earth's destroying!!!!!
Final Painting
If I could paint with words and pen
I'd set to paint the very air,
And yet it's but a part of all
that God created everywhere.
The flowers and streams and warm sunbeams
are all a part of His creation;
Hills and valleys and mountain towers
bring our senses great elation.
Could my soul - the vast expanses -
of this wond'rus world behold,
With pen in hand and chosen words,
I'd paint 奏il all its' beauty told.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But there's another story told -
of 僧an's creation' - now unfolding;
All the world his greedy hands
have been for many years re-molding!
If we look we'll find the changes -
since by God came first creation. . . . .
Fast becoming battlefields
and gyms-at-large-for recreation.
Mountain creeks and snowy peaks
are full of residue of bombs;
Waste and other products hastening
men toward their final tombs.
Crops and creatures, fish and fowl,
bear the marks of man's pollution;
By his hand and greed he's bringing
tainted forms of evolution.
Trees that used to bear amounts
of fruit in very great abundance,
Now we find evolving into
forms that seek a strange redundance.
Where fertile fields once stood remain
what's left of deadly war and greed;
The residue of man's vain folly;
tests and lessons he'd not heed.
The land's erosion - man's corrosion -
all have left their vivid scars:
Over planting - 素ields for killing'-
farmer's plowing - soldiers' wars!
God created in 禅he Garden'
perfect harmony . . . . .and man;
Now with haste it seems they race,
to end it by. . . .whose hand???
THE FIELDHAND
You cannot know the many times
I've used your words for someone's need
Like fieldhands used in planting time
to walk the fields and scatter seed
I've used you more than once to spread
the gospel over fertile ground
and pick the rocks and smooth the way
so crops of Mine would more abound
You've plowed the rows of truth
and hoed the lies men spread within the field
and helped Me pull the tares and weeds
to help increase salvation's yield
I've filled your cup to overflow
and water needful thirsting roots
With drops of living water
meant to nourish new young Christian shoots
You cannot know the times
that you were there when crops began to spoil
and how I've used the Holy Ghost
to take control and have you toil
And though your sickle wasn't often
used to harvest what you'd sow
When I bring home the final harvest
you'll be there with Me . . . . also!!!!
