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The Pasture

What happens to the pasture

When the autumn days are through

When the harvesting has ended

And there is no more work to do?

The winds of winter come quickly

To stiffen that fertile ground.

In the morning light we see,

The frost scattered on the ground.

Evening shadows quicken.

The daylight hours are few.

The hills and the meadows resting

Have a tan and rusty hue.


Perhaps a lonely visitor

Will hop along its paths

As it contemplates the absence

Of the cows and their calfs.

Many are the days ahead

When life seems quite bleak.

Envision then a coming day

When tender grasses peek.


For there comes a resurrection.

New life will then be found.

When beauty crowns the pasture

With flowers all around.



I have fought a good fight,

I have finished my course,

I have kept the faith:

Henceforth there is laid up for me

A crown of righteousness,

Which the Lord, the righteous judge,

Shall give me at that day:

And not to me only,

But unto all them also

That love his appearing.


2 Timothy 4:7-8



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