The Sower

Verse 1

Ye sons of earth prepare the plough, Break up your fallow ground! The Sower is gone forth to sow, And scatter blessings round.

Verse 2

The seed that finds a stony soil, Shoots forth a hasty blade; But ill repays the sower's toil, Soon withered, scorched, and dead.

Verse 3

The thorny ground is sure to balk All hopes of harvest there: We find a tall and sickly stalk, But not the fruitful ear.

Verse 4

The beaten path, and highway side Receive the trust in vain: The watchful birds the spoil divide, And pick up all the grain.

Verse 5

But where the Lord of grace and power Has blessed the happy field; How plenteous is the golden store The deep-wrought furrows yield!

Verse 6

Father of mercies, we have need Of thy preparing grace; Let the same hand that gives the seed Provide a fruitful place.