Abundance of good folk, I find

Verse 1

Abundance of good folk, I find, Are gathering goodness for the wind To scatter it about; They seek, with human care and skill, Their vessels with good wine to fill, But all the wine leaks out.

Verse 2

[A fretful soul his fault may spy, And struggle much, and often try Some patience to obtain; Yet after many toilsome years, And many sighs and many tears, He has not got a grain.]

Verse 3

He that with Jesus gathers not, May plough and sow, and weed his plot, But scatters all his corn; No real goodness long can stand, Which planted is by human hand; It dies as soon as born.

Verse 4

[They reap and scatter all the while; They reap and gather nought but toil; ’Tis labour lost, I see. O Lord, do thou instruct my heart With my own reaping-hook to part, And gather all with thee.]

Verse 5

In Christ my treasure gathered is; My wisdom, wealth, and might are his, My peace at his command; With him is free and plenteous store, And faith may have enough and more, When gathered from his hand.