The Purpose

Till the soil, break the clods,
Plough the fallow ground.
Whatever you do in life
Do so---However, Satan
Hinders the righteous.

One can be a Clydesdale
And be confined to a stall;
Powerful enough to pull
Two tons, but weak
And starved of affection.
That is the Meek one
Who shall inherit the earth.
And if the horse in the stall
Nibbles upon the passeryonder's apples
And does not bob its head or pin its ears
But rather is thrilled for a little bit of kindness
It is meek and mild, and one day
The Master shall come, and take
Him out of the abusive home
Purchase him from his cruel owner,
And train him to till the field
And make him strong.
For that is a true horse's desire
Is to run fast, to pull the sled
And to till the acreage.