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The Farmer's at Hand
The promise of reign
has always poured
down,
But the harvest depends
on the yawn in
the ground:
How much it drinks in
swelling to blessing,
Or spits back out
no one's left
guessing.
Stand in the pouring
with mouth open
wide,
For the time's a comin'
there's no place
to hide.
The crops must stand tall
across this dry
land,
The blade's been sharpened
the Farmer's
at hand.
Hebrews 6:1-12
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