The tiniest of seeds drifts along
Up in the gentle air,
Descends upon a rocky cliff,
And finds some soil there.
The rain and sun both coax the seed
To make a home and sprout.
It gains a foothold on the rock
By spreading roots about.
Small green leaves unfurl from buds,
Attempts to grasp the sky.
Desiring to grow taller
By clutching clouds just floating by.
Tempestuous winds rise from the sea.
Their cruel fingers rake
All the plant-life of the cliff,
The weakest ones to take.
The tender plant, though very small,
Hugs the barren ground.
Its roots will keep it anchored
When howling winds abound.
The snow white blooms of early spring
Appear, then quickly die.
Through summer heat and autumn frost,
The days go swiftly by.
And though the leaves fall to the earth
To show a withered stem,
When winter fails and spring arrives,
The plant will bloom again.
Our faith is like the tiny seed
That grows in a hostile place.
If our roots are deeply set,
We will not be disgraced.
Though our foe may storm about
To steal and then destroy,
When our leaves and blossoms fail,
The Lord restores our joy.
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