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“Harvest is great, laborers are few,”

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night has come, so much work to do.


Souls hurting, so many are crying,

souls lost, God help, many are dying!


Like the ten virgins, many are a sleep,

Oh…for souls, we must pray and weep.


I said my righteousness is as a filthy rag,

He said, go…His work my feet not drag.


Abraham’s bosom I see, not many there,

in hell’s depths, many!


When I stand before that judgment throne,

God, I might give account, talent I did own!


To work  so diligent and hard for You

that I might with care win a soul a new!


I ask…my heart not be callous to lost souls,

that I might see those falling through the holes.


Care for those hurting, those lost, be my concern,

how to help the hurting, win a soul, all should learn.


The most precious commodity, is people here,

let us feel their hurts and with love draw them near.


When men loose consciousness of a lost soul,

he, his compass has lost, souls pay the toll!


God said, that..”not His will that any should perish,”

oh please God, let men, every precious soul cherish!!


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General Contributor
Janice is a writer from Chicago, IL. She created the "simple living as told by me" newsletter with more than 12,000 subscribers about Living Better and is a founder of Seekyt.