The harvester they say,
Never sleeps,
Toiling night and day,
On bended knees,
A missionary by heart,
A farmer by craft,
Like a shepherd leading her cattle,
She is ready for battle,
She is a soldier by mantle,
Her path illuminated,
No path too rough,
For a thousand shall fall by her side,
Ten thousand by her right,
She is too tough.
On bended knees,
Eyes never blinks,
Sweats as rain, drops on cracked lips,
Never a pleasant sight to behold,
Yet no man young or old,
Not even the purest gold,
Ever matched the light of her inner beauty.
No challenges faced she ever lost,
No mountain too high,
Grace as wings she flies,
No path too steep for her to slip,
Armoured with a shield of faith,
The Bible her map,
Always on her lap,
The harvester she is, she sows,
Even on rocky grounds and minefields,
On bended knees,
Like moses she divides seas and strikes gold,
Bountiful harvest of souls she reaps,
For while others lost faith
With a living faith,
She is harvesting possibilities.