What of the harvest, there it be,
ripen grain of humanity.
What of the cries, of those lost,
all eternity, they bare the cost.
What of the souls, that soon shall die,
awakened in hell, to groan and sigh.
What of your family, that’s still not saved,
your mother, father, siblings depraved.
What of your children, time moves fast,
to shape and mold will soon be past.
What of your burden, where it be,
your prayers, your tears, your holy plea.
What will you say, at judgment seat,
when those you failed, you shall meet.
What will answer, to their long cry,
you never told me, I would eternally die.
What will bring, when Jesus you see,
will your hands be empty, for eternity.
What will you say, for talents given,
have you increased, or have you hidden.
What will you do, with this you read,
stay the same or reproof receive.
Will you kneel, and pray just now,
A great burden, to pray down.
This poem was written after I responded to a brother’s inquiry of how I was doing in my soul. I shared with him my great concern over the lack of my burden for the lost. I wrote this as a reproof to my own soul. It was written with much weeping and tears.
I lament my condition. I lack the love that I need for the lost. I fear that many souls will point their finger at me and curse me for all eternity and want to know why I didn’t tell them the gospel story and compel them to enter in. The harvest is so ripe, and I make so little time to work as a reaper. Oh God have mercy on my soul.
Jesus please help me. Help me to lose the fear of man and to be fool for you. Help me to bare the reproach, the hatred, and the disdain for trying to awaken sinners. Help me to work for you with a real soul burden and that all I would do would be bathed in prayer and pure concern for the lost.
Help me to redeem the time and lay off the pleasures of this world. Help me to labor for the meat that endures unto everlasting life. Please give me wisdom so that I may win just one soul for you and not meet you empty handed. Amen.