Progeny of fall, dying toil
Beneath each day’s more sunlit skies
A kernel lone within the soil
Unless it dies; unless it dies
Frost, winter ground and coat has burst
Tomb and linen strips have faltered
The root must plunge in effort first
Further downward; further downward
What life warmth doth now awaken!
From Firstfruit’s death and crimson earth
Rises that sweet yield of heaven
The second birth; the second birth
In heat of day, dry winds are spun
With worm upon and thorn beside
Yet brightly shines the giving sun
To eventide; to eventide
And in the storm, this Providence:
Drink of rain and nourishing flood
Pest washed away, day-fire relents
From trial, good; from trial, good
My body, seed, shall root where pressed
And work until bloom of blessing
From the grave, I, my Lord’s harvest
To Glory, spring; to Glory, spring
Ryan Cornett, 2022
Ryan Cornett 