Are the laborers still few?
Does the kingdom still lack workers when so many claim citizenship?
The Prince reigns in this land,
And the great rolling fields are turning
From green to brown
As the harvest becomes ripe.
The laborers walk out in the early morning dew
To tend the fruit that will fill and satisfy,
With enough for everyone in the kingdom
To be blessed with abundance.
Yet so few of the workers crack a smile
As the morning turns to midday
And their taskmasters press them
To sweat more and move their arms faster.
It is a shame to see these leaders of men
Forget the very first Sabbath lesson,
Sending their followers to the grindstone
Even in the hours made for rest.
But so few of the workers complain,
Because surely the taskmasters are honored
For all they accomplish in the name of the Prince
In the eyes of their fellow foremen.
So many of them—leaders and laborers alike—
Forget that none of this was ever meant to be owned
By the weak flesh that can’t even go one day
Without breaking the laws of the Prince it serves.
See, these golden fields are owned by the Prince,
And he gives and takes the land from the taskmasters,
All for the grander purposes of the kingdom,
As designed by the Prince’s glorious Father.
Let the laborers turn everything over to the Prince,
Investing the seeds they sew to bring up new life
For the expanding majesty of the kingdom
And the persistent light that is promised each dawn.
Poem taken from Jared Leys’s book, Mystery Traveler. Click here for more information.