Obituaries

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My Farm
My farm to me is not just land
Where bare unpainted buildings stand
To me, my farm is nothing less
Than all created loveliness.
My farm is not where I must soil
My hands in endless dreary toil
But where through seed and swelling pod
I’ve learned to walk and talk with God.
My farm to me is not a place
Outmoded by the modern race
For here I think I just see less
Of evil, greed and selfishness.
My farm’s a haven here dwells rest,
Security and happiness
Whate’er befalls the world outside
Here faith and hope and love abode.
And so my farm is not just land
Where bare unpainted buildings stand
To me my farm is nothing less
Than all God’s hoarded loveliness.