I tell you for certain that a grain of wheat that falls on the ground will never be more than one grain unless it dies. But if it dies, it will produce lots of wheat.
Its roots and stump may rot,
My strength has dried up like a broken clay pot, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. You, God, have left me to die in the dust.
Let cities overflow with food and hills be covered with grain, just like Mount Lebanon. Let the people in the cities prosper like wild flowers.
Wheat and barley are pounded, but not beaten to pulp; they are run over with a wagon, but not ground to dust.
This is because Christ died and rose to life, so that he would be the Lord of the dead and of the living.