Father, help me be patient,
As I receive the answer
To all my prayers.
In faith, I wait.

Trial, and time
In steady supply,
Over and round
By threshing sledge ground,
Crushed be
The husk of me.

Tossed, then,
High in hope,
To brave both
Flight and fall,
As Spirit winds,
A winnowing fan,
Carry my chaff
To all forgetful clouds.

Hallowed be the ground,
On which I come to rest.
Only Son,
Of Three in One.

Waiting, winning,
Gathering the wheat,
One with me
The answer be.

© 2012 Joann Nelander