Worship for Harvest
After an afternoon's discussion on ecological issues at our House Group, we were asked to write something about a piece of land, special to us, that in some way had helped to form our thinking about creation and the natural world. This poem was my response to the task. Hazel Bradley
Allotment Anthem
Praise God for the bike that carried me there,
And thanks for the plot, that in Winter so bare
Stood waiting for spade and trowel and hoe,
And a dad who was keen that we all have a go.
So while mum sorted seeds and I poked them in,
My sister ran off, her face in a grin
To find her old watering can, battered and bent
And proceeded to shower us all through the dent!
Praise God for the shoots that began to come through,
And thanks for the Spring time, as everything grew
And the first early cabbage was pulled from the earth,
With sticks of green sprouts just coming to birth
Which my sister and I found so funny to use
As battering rams ...there was many a bruise!
But each year at this time we planted a marrow,
Just a small little seed in a trough, dug quite narrow.
Praise God for the sunshine and picnics and flowers,
And thanks for the spending of long Summer hours
Picking strawberries and raspberries, more eaten than bagged,
But those that remained were all sorted and tagged.
We examined our marrow, now six inches long
And scratched on a message and watched it grow strong.
I lazed on the grass, looking up at the sky
With the trees in full leaf and the clouds scudding by.
Praise God for such memories from a small piece of land,
And thanks for the people who all lent a hand
To give me a sense of God's care for his world,
As I watched through the seasons, Creation unfurled.
So as Autumn descended and days were cut short,
Our marrow was lifted, and in due time was brought
To the chapel, at Harvest, where all were amazed
At the message writ large on its side, 'GOD BE PRAISED'
A Harvest Hymn
God, out of love for us made a creation,
Set it all up such that life came to be;
Ordered the nature of mass and the forces
In just the way that God's beauty we see.
God, out of love for us, gave us our freedom;
Freedom to think and to speak and to do.
Give thanks to God for all this is our nature;
How can we learn to God's standard be true?
God, out of love for us, gave to us Jesus
His is the life that God's standard displays.
The fruits of the Spirit are ours to employ,
Loving each other for all of our days.
Give to God glory, the Father who made us;
Give to God glory, in Jesus the Son;
Give to God glory, the life giving Spirit;
Give to God glory, the great Three in One.
© Howard Fitall Tune: God in His love for us lent us this planet 11.10.11.10
Harvest meditation
Blackberries and honey
Tempting sweetness
Flavour-full in every part
New and rich and transient
Deep dark purple berries
In amongst the undergrowth
Sometimes hidden away
The berry ripens, swells
And offers its very self
For transformation and growth
In the deep dark hidden places within
Lies such sweetness
That if we dare search for it
The finding is so sweet
As to be almost unbearable
In the liquid sunshine summertime
The toil of many tiny lives
Brings fruitfulness to the community
Of buzzing brown and gold
In liquid molten honey
Prayerfully held in community
Is the common life of sharing
A sweetness that no one alone
Can hope to bring
In such profusion
And yet the bramble bears a thorn
And the bee a sting
If fear of them holds us back
We may never taste the delights,
The transformation they bring.
© Diane Coleman 2005
Supermarket Harvest
What does Harvest mean to me?
I neither sow nor reap,
But glean through supermarket shelves
To pluck what's going cheap.
No mellow fruitfulness is here,
But sterile, tidy tins,
And crops all smart in cardboard coats
And glossy plastic skins.
No harmony of autumn leaves
But glaring lies entice,
And labels scream: 'There's ten pence off.
It's cheap at half the price!'
No sound of tractors in the fields,
But cram-full trolleys clash,
And jingling tills bind sheaves of notes,
And gather in the cash.
No need to plough and scatter now
The good seed on the ground:
With canned, convenient, frozen food
It's harvest all year round!
So through these claustrophobic fields
Robot-like I roam
And long for fragrant country air
And joys of harvest home.
And chapels heaped with fruit and flowers,
Arranged with homely art,
Where grateful mortals yield to God
The harvest of the heart.
So through that soulless check-out point,
Bring all you can afford
And check in here at...(name of Church)
And come and praise the Lord!
Arnold Kellett