This Is The Golden Seed Time


This is the golden seed-time,
What will your harvest yield?
What is the seed, O sower,
Dropped in the waiting field?
Into the open furrow,
Under the sunlight free,
See from your hand is falling,
Oh! what will your harvest be?
What will you harvest be,
What will your harvest be?

Sowing the seeds of sorrow,
Planting the thorns of wrong,
Look to the end, thou sower,
Tho’ it may tarry long;
Sowing in sin and doubting,
Seed for eternity,
Reaping the fruit hereafter,
Oh! what will your harvest be?
What will you harvest be,
What will your harvest be?

What of your seed, beloved,
You who have named His name?
Is it from out the garner,
Precious and still the same?
Are you a careless idler?
What is your hope and plea?
When you must join the reapers,
Oh! what will your harvest be?
What will you harvest be,
What will your harvest be?

Earnest and faithful toilers,
Bearing the precious seed,
Sowing beside all waters,
Ready in word and deed,
You shall return rejoicing,
You shall the Master see;
When the ripe sheaves are garner’d,
Oh! blest will your harvest be.
Blest will you harvest be,
Blest will your harvest be.