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"Display wisdom by wining a soul today” Felix Joe, Proverbs 11:30 THE GREAT HARVEST! Enlarge the celestial coast In labor you deserve a toast Hurry! Hurry! No gain if they roast So my word, could make a boast All fields greatly ripe, just harvest Pest eats, yet contend all for wipe My pleasure is keeping all the ripe Come harvest, earn a wage Your inheritance stares in the feild Yes! For each, paid my costliest Truly! My heart beat is their count My passion, is lavished regardless the cost Engage he harvest, you wise is applauded Show me you are wise. And wear wisdom as robe The stores are built But the harvest, reluctant and few Laborers are few Yet, the fields to harvest, so great My son’s will they all so waste? All ripen to eternal decompose? My tears as sea, who will wipe? Giving me their soul Yes! I can smile Redeem the time Your labor, attacking the spoilers Yes! Fight. With passion for the spoil My toil on the soil, all ripe Will it come to spoil? Tick says the time Haste all must embrace Time is upset and frowns The supper table is set The marriage setting all planned to posh The groom set, anxiously wait Heaven orchestra’s melody, Rehearsed and fine tuned The father puffed to give his blessings Angels all eager, Ready for the trumpets reunion Where is the bride? How ready is her resolve? Is she willing to marry me? Who will hasten her delay? Is her passion for me stone cold? But I won’t let go. Yes! For love the price was much Can’t someone go for me? Harvesting my bride? Oh laborers, sluggards I despise Muster strength, adding courage Gather the field into the store So preparing the bride For that day, I come quickly Sounding trumpets, in search for my love Her soul is my heartbeat. I come quickly Rewards as wage in hand Decorating great laborers Harvesters of the great field Yes! O sluggard! Hide from my wrath For never learning, the ants wisdom All my saints, learn from the ants Hurry, hurry, hurry, o! The harvest Come one, call more laborers The wage, a surplus Yes! The harvest, so precious I bleed for them, all naked with scorn By it, build inheritance Indeed the treasures are safe Moot and termite wont dare it Make your essence enjoy his presence. Laboring to gather The greatest of all harvest! Author: the Holy Spirit Felix Joseph chumfin4poem@yahoo.com, +2348037825027 Written: 9.45am- 11:20am, 26-8-2009. Port-Harcourt/Lagos. NIGERIA