「那耕地為要撒種的，豈是終日耕地呢？豈是不斷開墾耙地呢？」－以賽亞書28:24
草地的一角站著一棵年邁的老樹，野鳥在枝頭上休憩，清新的空氣間佈滿了悅耳的啼鳴。樹蔭下棲著兩頭母牛，真是一幅悠閒足意的景象；路旁蒲公英滿叢盛放，幾株紫羅蘭疏亂的在其間零星點綴...。
我靠在籬笆上，渾然忘了時間消逝，滿足地享受這一幅人間美景，心想著這應該就是神所造的最美之地了。
隔天我又經過了那片青草地，不料，美好的景象卻一夕之間面目全非了。
我見到一位農夫正站在溝間，倚著鐵犁休息。短短一天之內，綠油油的草地不見了，取而代之的是醜惡光禿的黃土；歌唱的鳥兒飛走了，卻換來幾隻嘴裡啣著蟲子的老母雞；蒲公英和紫羅蘭也都不見去向。
我難過憂傷的喃喃自語著：「怎麼會有人忍心破壞如此美麗的事物？」
就在這時，一隻看不見的手揭去了我的遮蔽，我頓時看到了一幅異象；我見到田裡熟透了的玉米滿田滿園，我見到巨大沈重的玉米莖在秋日的陽光下閃爍，我也聽見秋風掠過花穗的聲音。
轉眼間，光禿的黃土脫胎換骨，有了前所未有美麗的景象。
當偉大的農夫來到我們心田耕耘時，祂也會將我們所珍愛的美善連根拔除，留下我們所鄙夷的荒涼黃土。
噢！但願我們永遠記得那幅豐富收成的美麗景象！
－選
"Doth the plowman plow all day to sow?" (Isa. 28:24).One day in early summer I walked past a beautiful meadow. The grass was as soft and thick and fine as an immense green Oriental rug. In one corner stood a fine old tree, a sanctuary for numberless wild birds; the crisp, sweet air was full of their happy songs. Two cows lay in the shade, the very picture of content.
Down by the roadside the saucy dandelion mingled his gold with the royal purple of the wild violet.
I leaned against the fence for a long time, feasting my hungry eyes, and thinking in my soul that God never made a fairer spot than my lovely meadow.
The next day I passed that way again, and lo! the hand of the despoiler had been there. A plowman and his great plow, now standing idle in the furrow, had in a day wrought a terrible havoc. Instead of the green grass there was turned up to view the ugly, bare, brown earth; instead of the singing birds there were only a few hens industriously scratching for worms. Gone were the dandelion and the pretty violet. I said in my grief, "How could any one spoil a thing so fair?"
Then my eyes were opened by some unseen hand, and I saw a vision, a vision of a field of ripe corn ready for the harvest. I could see the giant, heavily laden stalks in the autumn sun; I could almost hear the music of the wind as it would sweep across the golden tassels. And before I was aware, the brown earth took on a splendor it had not had the day before.
Oh, that we might always catch the vision of an abundant harvest, when the great Master Plowman comes, as He often does, and furrows through our very souls, uprooting and turning under that which we thought most fair, and leaving for our tortured gaze only the bare and the unbeautiful. --Selected
