His face grew darker than ever. He railed
against the rain. He railed against the sun
because it did not shine. He blamed the wheat
because it might perish before the harvest.
``But why does he always complain?'' moaned
the corn-plants. ``Have we not done our best
from the first? Has not God's blessing been with
us? Are we not growing daily more beautiful in
strength and hope? Why does not the Master
trust, as we do, in the future richness of the
harvest?''
Of all this the Master of the Harvest heard
nothing. But his wife wrote on the flyleaf of her
Book: ``He watereth the hills from his chambers,
the earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy works.
He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle and
herb for the service of man, that he may bring
forth food out of the earth, and wine that maketh
glad the heart of man, and oil to make his face
to shine, and bread which strengtheneth man's
heart.''
And day by day the hours of sunshine were
more in number. And by degrees the green corn-
ears ripened into yellow, and the yellow turned
into gold, and the abundant harvest was ready,
and the laborers were not wanting.
Then the bursting corn broke out into songs
of rejoicing. ``At least we have not labored and
watched in vain! Surely the earth hath yielded
her increase! Blessed be the Lord who daily
loadeth us with benefits! Where now is the Master
of the Harvest? Come, let him rejoice with us!''
And the Master's wife brought out her Book
and her husband read the texts she had written
even from the day when the corn-seeds were held
back by the first drought, and as he read a new
heart seemed to grow within him, a heart that was
thankful to the Lord of the Great Harvest.
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