At the Harvest, in the Autumn

At the harvest, in the autumn, at the waning of the year
As we come to count our blessings, we confront the ancient fear:
Is there enough? The bushels laid up—will they last until the spring?
Can we truly count on God for enough of everything?

In the winter, in the stillness, in a barren, cold new year
As we wait and watch, we worry if the springtime will appear:
Where is the light, the voice that called us from the shadows of the womb?
Will God come to lead the way through the darkness and the gloom?

When the buds along the tree branch remain brown and tightly furled
When the waters from the rainstorms rise and flood familiar worlds
When summer heat burns down relentless on our souls long parched and dry–
Oh, where is the God who hears when believers cry out, why?

We may rage and we may sorrow, feel new grief each time we wake.
The old friends we love may leave us, we may live with hearts that ache.
Yet Christ is here and walks beside us, knows our anger and our pain,
And is present and made known in what cannot be explained.

Anxious souls, trust your Creator, the great God of boundless grace
Whose redeeming love can enter every dark and lonely place
Praise Love unchanging, Love eternal, Love immediate and strong
Love that reaches into hearts and turns weeping into song.


Gwen Gotsch
Revised June 17 2012
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