Our Garden

Forgive me Lord for calling
this little patch MY garden;
for not acknowledging your part
I sincerely beg your pardon.
I planted seeds and hoed a bit
I watched it grow and admired it,
forgetting that you helped me from the start.

You sent the rain in right amount;
more sunny days than I can count
and all the elements the garden needed.
Your share in this small garden went unheeded.
I took your gifts as if my due,
I did not think to credit you.
I called it mine because I was the one who seeded.

But now the rain has not been sent.
The garden browned, the flowers spent.
Long gone is memory of spring's bright splendor.
The sun is pitless and hot
The life is gone from this small plot.
The plants send up burned branches in surrender.

No touch of mine can make it thrive.
You made this garden come alive.
I ask you to relieve its pain
and make it flourish once again.
It is in need of Your rain to survive.
You are the Master Gardener who
Is only one can pull it through.
It waits now for your rain clouds to arrive.

By:Joyce 7/29/03