Unbegun Symphony of Promise

Hand Dirt Seedling Gift Refrain:
They saw the har­vest inside me.
They saw what was not there to see.
Pur­pose which God embed­ded within;
Cre­at­ed with promise to be.
The seed the farmer rejected;
Hull and husk long fall­en and gone;
The sur­face pit­ted and battered;
Dis­card­ed, deemed worth­less and done.

So small the seed hold­ing promise;
Which for lack of nur­ture and sun;
For rich soil nev­er embracing;
Ger­mi­na­tion nev­er begun.

Giv’n them­selves as His instrument;
Samar­i­tans on the stark lane,
Upon which lay, dis­card­ed kernel,
Hope­less. Wretched. Con­sumed by pain.

God’s sor­row-filled heart apparent;
The song He put there unsung.
Yearn­ing to see the seed planted;
The pre­lude well writ­ten begun.

Redeemed by hand of a stranger.
Exam­ined through lens of God’s love.
Found there what oth­ers were missing,
Hid­den in quo­tid­i­an shell.

Warm embrace of earth enclosing;
Show­ered with unde­served love;
Radi­ant grace of acceptance;
Infus­ing the core from above.

Slow­ly the shell starts to soften;
New growth break­ing free from within.
The process now set into motion;
God’s sym­pho­ny of joy begins.

Secure roots of hope descending;
Sup­port­ing as shoot starts to raise;
Bursts forth from cocoon­ing seedbed;
Lift­ing dicotyl arms in praise.


This is writ­ten as a poor attempt to express bound­less grat­i­tude to my friends and fam­i­ly, the love and accep­tance of which, have tak­en me from the bro­ken, hope­less, joy­less, and rather feck­less man of recent past, to some­one who is begin­ning to embrace life and full of joy and the knowl­edge that God has a pur­pose for him.

A dear friend of mine, Allena Volk­say Yates, blessed me by putting this to a tune, which may be heard here.

Leave a Reply