Watching the White Wheat

As the Welsh say, "Bugeilio'r gwenith gwyn." A watchman watches. The wheat unfolds, silver in the light. The fields are full, and the harvest ripens after a harsh winter, which started early and ended late.

I was reminded of this by an ancient post that a former student quoted. It so happened by coincidence that I was reading from a prophet whose complaints were answered.

I will stand upon my watch, and set me upon the tower, and will watch to see what He will say unto me, and what I shall answer when I am reproved.

And the LORD answered me, and said, "Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it. For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry."

The rest of the passage is powerful and disturbing in its historical context, and you can seek it out if you need to be disturbed. But the watchman sees in the gloom, and realises — the night has come, but the sunrise will follow. That is promised, and the future is aflame with eternal promises.