Satisfies

Then he told them a parable.
“There was a rich man whose land produced a bountiful harvest.
He asked himself, ‘What shall I do,
for I do not have space to store my harvest?’
And he said, ‘This is what I shall do:
I shall tear down my barns and build larger ones.
There I shall store all my grain and other goods
and I shall say to myself, “Now as for you,
you have so many good things stored up for many years,
rest, eat, drink, be merry!”‘
But God said to him,
‘You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you;
and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?’
Thus will it be for the one who stores up treasure for himself
but is not rich in what matters to God.”
—Luke 12:13-21

Should the harvest fill my yearning,
should its feasting crown my years,
there would still be wildfire burning
in the hollow of my fears,
and it roars of hunger’s nearing,
how the feast to famine turns.
I am filled but I still am seared now,
and my heart its comfort spurns.

Should I lock away my harvests
for a future yet unsure,
should I turn away the starving
who have gathered at my door,
still I would not sleep securely
for the burning in my heart.
No, my life is still uncertain—
Come, O Lord: You life impart.

For there’s but one wine that quenches,
but one bread that satisfies.
Though I make these furrows trenches,
fight to fill them, yet I’ll die.
Help me, Lord, to cease this striving;
help these frightened hands unclench,
for the fallen seed is rising
and the rains these furrows drench.

Let the storehouse doors swing open;
let this harvest go to need.
Though I fall, though I am broken,
I will rise with Christ the seed.
Though this flame has burned unceasing,
it may turn from fear to hope,
for beyond this earthly reaping
Christ will bring his harvest home.