Around the world
the people of God kneel.
They bend like ripe wheat
to the wind of the spirit.
From east to west
the cry rises to heaven:
Christ has died, Christ is risen,
Christ will come again.
Bend down your ear and listen--
Lord, how much longer?
The fields slumber under the sun
awaiting the trumpet blast.
God has certainly given you a beautiful way with words. I loved this poem !
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