Yehuveh’s answer in a Poem:


They Also Serve
Who Only Stand and Wait


            “The fields are whitening ’neath the ripening grain,
                        I long to toil among the reapers there;
            What full-ripe sheaves I’ll gather ere the rain,
                        To prove my gratitude for God’s dear care.”

            Thus saying, resolute and proud I stood
                        Amid the ever-hurrying, busy throng,
            Waiting to see, in somewhat anxious mood,
                        The Lord and Master as He came along.

            He came, and, pressing through the eager throng,
                        I stood beside Him, near the open gate;
            “Master, what shall I do? My soul is strong.”
                        He turned and softly said, “Here stand and wait.”

            The hot blood to my brows and temples flew,
                        I struggled fiercely with my hapless fate.
            “Ah, Master, have you naught for me to do?”
                        “Yes,” He replied at once, “Here stand and wait.”

            He passed along, and through the weary hours
                        I stood with restless hands and aching heart;
            I would not even pluck the fragrant flowers
                        Beneath my feet, as thus I stood apart.

            Again He passed, and in my grief I said,
                        “I’d rather die than only stand and wait.”
            One look of sad rebuke—no word He said,
                        But left me weeping by the open gate.

            The weary, weary hours come and pass,
                        I watch the reapers cut the ripened grain,
            I see their heavy sheaves, and sigh, “Alas,
                        That I can only wrestle with my pain!”

            The night draws near—I see Him once again.
                        “O Master, see, ’tis growing dark and late!
            I have no sheaves!” His sweet voice soothes my pain,
                        “They serve Me best who patient stand and wait.”

            So, patiently I strive to stand and wait
                        Through all the glories of the coming years,
            Wait till His hand shall lead me through the gate
                        And change to smiles my tears.

Note: Author unknown. This poem was published in an early Seventh-day Adventist publication in the 1800’s.


Gael Bataman
Originally Entered:         8 December 2011
Latest Update:               8 December 2011


      
Return to Zadok Home                 Continue to Enoch 1:1 . . .            Go to Enoch Introduction
      
Go to Enoch’s Second Vision Introduction           “Who is Yehuveh?”           “Who is Elohim?”