I heard you, My child.
I understand how you feel;
Why haven't you received a harvest?
My Word says you will.
You brought your case to Me,
And told Me sacrifices you've made...
You gave when you had little,
And you did it - afraid.
I'll multiply your seeds, My love,
And your crying shall be no more;
Because you gave in poverty,
You will never be poor.
While others reap their harvest,
Yet you're waiting for yours to grow;
Don't ask Me if I love them more -
The answer is always 'no.'
Rejoice with those who get blessed.
Believe for yours to come to;
It takes time, but trust Me,
And waiting won't be hard to do.
Because you told Me how you feel,
Instead of holding it in;
Because you poured out your heart,
I'll speed up your harvest, My friend.
By Jennifer O’Connor