Out in Golden Fields

I am here with You

And the sky is big

And my lungs delight

In the country air.

And as far as sight

Will allow my grasp

I see fields of gold

Stretching everywhere.

I don’t want to stop

There is much ahead

And I feel your warmth

Falling on my back.

And my sprint picks up

With a lighter step

That I might defeat

Unbelief’s attack.

What a thrill to run

In my Saviour’s wake

Trusting still He waits

At horizon’s crest.

And I trim my style

For His honour’s sake

Midst a bumper crop

Glowing with His best.

John 4: 35 Say not ye, There are yet four months, and then cometh harvest? behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.

[How tedious and tasteless the hours
When Jesus no longer I see!
Sweet prospects, sweet birds and sweet flow’rs,
Have all lost their sweetness to me.
The midsummer sun shines but dim,
The fields strive in vain to look gay;
But when I am happy in Him
December’s as pleasant as May. (John Newton)]

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