Fruit of the Spirit

The beautiful fruit of the Spirit,
Grows in a waste land of thorns.
Where kindness and love have no merit
People only valued as pawns.

Glorious flower of God's goodness,
Blossoms in the bleakest of fields.
Testimony to the world's cruel silence
And the confusion and chaos this yields.

God's gardening is patient and tender,
Producing fruit where once there was waste.
He works to a different agenda,
Without hustle or bustle or haste.

The fruit needs the rain and the sunshine,
Protection from all that would harm.
This work goes on in His own time,
Carried through by God's mighty arm.