. . . What we owe the future is not a new start, for we can only begin with what has happened. We owe the future the past, the long knowledge that is the potency of time to come. Wendell Berry
Plough deep in me great Lord, heavenly husbandman, that my being may be a tilled field, the roots of grace spreading far and wide, until thou alone art seen in me, thy beauty golden like summer harvest, thy fruitfulness and autumn plenty.
From "The Valley of Vision: A collection of Puritan Prayers and Devotions".