Have You Forgotten the Harvest? (I wrote this in Jan of 2011)

http://voices.yahoo.com/have-forgotten-harvest-7711552.html?cat=10





Have You Forgotten the Harvest?



Look out and see, the "Harvest" it is falling in the fields, rotting on the vines.
Look again, and see, the few workers who steadily walk the rows, knowing of the coming wines.



See the workers as they tremble and kneel searching for just one more to rescue on their row
Pushing aside the thorns, reaching through the bramble's seeking to find just one more before they must go.



See the wind pick up and carry fast away those who may hear, if it were not for the winds of care.
See no one to catch the fruit blown high it the wind, see the fruit as it dries out in the air --



See the workers who work day to day, night to night, hoping to bring in every one.
Steadily walking, reaching out to the ever ripening fruit, desiring to make known the battle has been won.



Look again, see the professing, see them glance with distain, see their ignorance dance.
Wrapping up in garments beyond reproach, holding high morals, forgetting at once, their wound that another did lance'"



Look again, see, the new convert, walking alone, seeking guidance, yet finding none.
See the professing in ignorance; ignore those immature in their faith, allowing the immature to stand alone.



Errors of doctrine, is it no wonder so many innocent fall prey?
Step back my friend, are you professing, or are you for the "King" searching, the fields as the fields even now turn to grey?



Storm clouds are rolling in, storm clouds soon will brighten the darkest night.
My dear friend, don't leave this world empty handed, hold steady the "Light".



Hold your light high; bend your knee low, for the last fields are surely to be "Harvested" though the rains are even now beginning to fall.
One drop, two drop, the clouds are rolling in, soon the workers prayers will be but an echoing memory of the finest call --



Now, don't prance, there is still work to be done, lay aside your assumed status, your finery, for you must search the trenches, for the "Harvest" is ripe.


 
There'll be time enough for rest, when the clouds do part, and we see our complete and finished race.
Our race, it has already been won, why must we linger and debate, it is forever settled in Heaven, it is settled for all time on earth, it is settled it is by faith alone, granted through divine mercy, settled with grace.



My dear, the works you see of the labourers, it is not of an added burden, it is not to complete some undone, unfinished work, my dear it is the labourer's gift of love.
A gift given so great, that it must be shared, and so the labour goes, to the last forsaken fields, searching, reaching out hoping to give one more the eternal gift that was signed, sealed and delivered, from above.



My dear, to conceal from the lost the greatest gift ever given, is to never have truly accepted the gift of grace.


 
My friend, listen carefully, do you run alone, or do you walk in grace, knowing the end of your race?
Footsteps walk steadily, reaching out to tell, looking to find, just one more --
Knowing soon, for the "lost" all hope will soon be lost, bending the knee, praying the "lost" may enter in at the door --