14: Appendix

Earth’s Tribute

First the grain, and then the blade—
The one destroyed, the other made;
Then stalk and blossom, and again
The gold of newly minted grain.

So life, by death the reaper cast
To earth, again shall rise at last;
For ’tis the service of the sod
To render God the things of God.

by John Banister Tabb, April 1892 (p. 159, Life, Death, and Similar Themes: The World)

Resurrection

All that springeth from the sod
Tendeth upwards unto God;
All that cometh from the skies
Urging it anon to rise.

Winter’s life-delaying breath
Leaveneth the lump of death,
Till the frailest fettered bloom
Moves the earth, and bursts the tomb.

Welcome, then, time’s threshing-pain
And the furrows where each grain,
Like a Samson, blossom-shorn,
Waits the resurrection morn.

by John Banister Tabb, March 1894 (p. 159, Life, Death, and Similar Themes: The World)

The Grave-Digger

Here underneath the sod,
Where night till now hath been,
With every lifted clod
I let the sunshine in.

How dark soe’er the gloom
Of Death’s approaching shade,
The first within the tomb
Is light, that cannot fade.

And from the deepest grave
I banish it in vain;
For, like a tidal wave,
Anon ’twill come again.

by John Banister Tabb, March 1907 (p. 186, Life, Death and Similar Themes: Miscellaneous)

The three poems above reproduced from: http://poetry.elcore.net/PoetryByJohnBTabb.html

The Rain Keeps Falling

My daughter and I put the seeds in the dirt
And every day now we've been watching the earth
For a sign that this death will give way to a birth
And the rain keeps falling

Down on the soil where the sorrow is laid
And the secret of life is igniting the grave
And I'm dying to live but I'm learning to wait
And the rain is falling
Excerpt from song

by Andrew Peterson, 2015 [Website].

The Sower’s Song

Oh God, I am furrowed like the field,
Torn open like the dirt,
And I know that to be healed
That I must be broken first.
I am aching for the yield
That You will harvest from this hurt.
...
So,I kneel
At the bright edge of the garden,
At the golden edge of dawn,
At the glowing edge of spring,
When the winter's edge is gone.
And I can see the color green,
I can hear the sower's song.
...
As the rain and the snow fall
Down from the sky,
And they don't return but they water the earth
And they bring forth life,
Giving seed to the sower, bread for the hunger
So shall the word of the Lord be
With a sound like thunder.
And it will not return,
It will not return void.
We shall be led in peace
And go out with joy.

And the hills before us
Will raise their voices,
And the trees of the field will clap their hands
As the land rejoices.
And instead of the thorn now
The cypress towers,
And instead of the briar,
The myrtle blooms with a thousand flowers.
And it will make a name,
Make a name for our God,
A sign everlasting that will never be cut off.

As the earth brings forth
Sprouts from the seed,
What is sown in the garden
Grows into a mighty tree.
So the Lord plants justice, justice and praise
To rise before the nations till the end of days.

Excerpt from song by Andrew Peterson, 2015 [Website].