RURAL BRYANT, SD, PRESENTS:
Breaking Our Hearts' Crusted Soil,
by Ron Ginther
This hard clay heart You would not make.
Imprisoned, shut deep, in dark, my soul!
Yet no tears, just proud looks, my blinded eyes. sin's toll!
And, O Spike, stab, cleave, and sharp divide
This stubborn will, whose ally, hideous strength, Has opened a furnace door in Hell's side.
The clinging grasp on fashionable earthly things.
How fondly pressing Coveting, Greed, Venal Lust
To our breast foul demons with barbed wings!
Such sweet, charming fleshly pleasure--
Seeking man's approval, not God's, in the public place.
Strip, expose, and lay bare this fault to the Light.
Let God be exalted, Show-off Selfie, abase!
Castles of steel, strong-holds of indulgence;
Fawning lap dogs turned lions,
Petted desires reaping hell's recompense.
These genteel murders, voted and sanctioned our right.
The very old, the very young,
Slaughtered then swept from public sight.
This blaspheming church wed to this immoral State.
The righteous awarded prison, torture, slave labor;
The vile parading in designer robe and miter, acclaimed great.
Not only that other clod of earth, him, rake!
Come, Lord, be MY clod's harrow,
Grant a new day, dawning when I wake.
Christ our Harrow, weed out thistles and deeply till.
The field was plowed, precious seed was sown,
Your harvest, Lord, receive, and reap, all who will.
Harrow 2, [Archaic] to rob, plunder, or pillage, harrow hell [Archaic] to enter hell and rescue the righteous: said of Christ. (New World Dictionary of the American Language)
**"Break! Break! Break" is borrowed from a great English poem for special use here.