The soil on which I work and live.

I will lie here in this field and I will know myself.

I will sit here in this chair on this soil and I will let him know me.

I will rest on this plow of salvation.

I will sleep on the reapers of the angels.

I will sleep here on this mattress of grace.

And here, with dirt under my nails and deep aches in my joints, I will let work be done upon this old soul.

For in no other do I find rest or repair so frequently.