May I, the least and the last,
Who labor in Your vineyard,
None the less, bear fruit,
One hundred fold.
I dare such dreams,
And bear such hope,
For though, the meanest,
And the smallest,
Saints and angels attend me,
Together, we labor for Your glory.
Some know You explicitly,
While others simply wonder at Your Creation,
Not realizing that Creation waits on tiptoe,
Willing Your Will.
May all who implicitly perceive You darkly,
Know You in the Light of Jesus, Your Son,
The First Born of Your Love,
That even the least and the last,
May rejoice at Your Coming to claim Your own.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
All Creation waits on tiptoe for the revelation of the sons of God. (Rom. 8:19)