From rippling fields of golden grain
God says, "Take, eat, this is my bread."
I hear His voice in splashing rain,
"Come, drink, I am the Fountain-head."
From quiet dell and sheltered glen
He whispers, "Come, I am your rest,"
And from each songbird's sweet amen
My heart is lifted up and blessed.
From purple fruit by fragrant ways
He says, "Partake, I am the Vine."
This whole great universe sings in praise
While God says, "All I have is thine."
by Ida F. Killian
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