©2015 Susan Noyes Anderson
Their roots were in the land;
the land was everything.
The old ones took a stand,
inured to suffering.
Hard work was what they knew,
They held God in their view,
gave Him their sacred parts.
He came by storm and flood,
breathed wind and uttered rain.
He smiled in sun-warmed crops,
frowned droughts of wasted grain.
Like Job, they persevered
and counted blessings twice.
The land was theirs, revered,
worth any sacrifice.
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