The Gardener

My child, I know your grief
Your every burden I share;
I know how you are tested
Afflictions do not seem fair.

At times you fear My indifference
To all affecting thee;
But know your pain and suffering
Are of deep concern to Me.

My child, I have a purpose
In all that I allow;
I ask you then to trust Me
To see beyond this hour.

How often you have prayed
For removal of thy thorns;
This refining process is a must
To enter Heaven’s doors.

The path is straight and narrow
If you would really be,
Conformed into the image
Of Him who died for thee.

How can you be like Jesus
Until self is crucified
And as a daily process
The cross must be applied.

Like a skillful gardener
I will prune your very life –
Weeds must be uprooted,
Sin severed with a knife.

I have, but one desire
That your roots be strong and deep;
Drink My water – do not thirst
Be fruitful for all to see.
(In this you glorify Me)

Do not grow weary from the training
A gardener must cultivate His seed;
For I know just how to make you
All… that I would have you be.