The Sower

A sower went forth to sow one day,His step was light and his spirit gay;Freely and fast, from his open hand,The golden grain bespread the land,For the sower strewed from a boundless storeThat, scattered abroad, increased the more.No selfish blessing did he ask,Nor claim reward for his tireless task;For the Father's bounty, overflowing,Must be shared through constant, careful sowing;Nor gave he thought what seed should thrive,Nor what might shrivel, nor what might live,Nor feared he wind both shrill and cold,Nor wild birds wandering overbold.He sowed with joy that the good, rich seedMight every weary wanderer feed;He sowed with a love that warmly glowed,And a faith that sped him on his road.What though the thorns on yonder hillShould push and choke the seed untilIt withered? What though rocky soilShould make a jest of his tireless toil?There is good ground yet, where the rich, soft earthWill receive the seed, and warm the birthOf the tender plant that will soon appearStraight and strong, till the ripening ear,Gilded and mellowed by Love's sunshine,Watered by dewdrops of Truth divine,Bears fruitage full, and the harvest timeBetokens that sower's work—sublime!

Thus should we all, who reap our fillOf the Father's gracious, loving will,Share with the world our treasure trove—Our sure supply of Truth and LoveThat, scattered wide, flows in apaceWith our spending, and leaves no empty space.Not ours to lament the barren soilIn thought, that would fain our efforts foil;The Father will break each heavy clodOf the carnal mind, and prepare the sod.With Him be the increase; but we must speedWith the planting, and minister thus to the needOf the hungry, nor stay till the fields are whiteWith the Word, and fruitage gleams in sight.

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