Behold a Sower! from afar
He goeth forth with might;
The rolling years His furrows are,
His seed, the growing light;
For all the just His Word is sown,
It springeth up alway;
The tender blade is hope’s young dawn,
The harvest, love’s new day.

O Lord of life, to Thee we lift
Our hearts in praise for those,
Thy prophets, who have shown Thy gift
Of grace that ever grows,
Of truth that spreads from shore to shore,
Of wisdom’s widening ray,
Of light that shineth more and more
Unto Thy perfect day.

Shine forth, O Light, that we may see,
With hearts all unafraid,
The meaning and the mystery
Of things that Thou hast made;
Shine forth, and let the darkling past
Beneath Thy beam grow bright;
Shine forth, and touch the future vast
With Thine untroubled light.

Light up Thy Word; the fettered page
From killing bondage free;
Light up our way; lead forth this age
In love’s large liberty.
O Light of light! within us dwell,
Through us Thy radiance pour,
That word and life Thy truths may tell,
And praise Thee evermore.

Scattering precious seed by the wayside,
Scattering precious seed by the hillside;
Scattering precious seed o’er the field, wide,
Scattering precious seed by the way.

Refrain

Sowing in the morning,
Sowing at the noontide;
Sowing in the evening,
Sowing the precious seed by the way.

Scattering precious seed for the growing,
Scattering precious seed, freely sowing,
Scattering precious seed, trusting, knowing,
Surely the Lord will send it the rain.

Refrain

Scattering precious seed, doubting never,
Scattering precious seed, trusting ever;
Sowing the word with prayer and endeavor,
Trusting the Lord for growth and for yield.

Refrain

The sower went forth sowing,
The seed in secret slept
Through weeks of faith and patience,
Till out the green blade crept;
And warmed by golden sunshine,
And fed by silver rain,
At last the fields were whitened
To harvest once again.
O praise the heavenly Sower,
Who gave the fruitful seed,
And watched and watered duly,
And ripened for our need.

Behold! the heavenly Sower
Goes forth with better seed,
The Word of sure salvation,
With feet and hands that bleed;
Here in His Church ’tis scattered,
Our spirits are the soil;
Then let an ample fruitage
Repay His pain and toil.
Oh, beauteous is the harvest,
Wherein all goodness thrives,
And this the true thanksgiving,
The first fruits of our lives.

Within a hallowed acre
He sows yet other grain,
When peaceful earth receiveth
The dead He died to gain;
For though the growth be hidden,
We know that they shall rise;
Yea even now they ripen
In sunny Paradise.
O summer land of harvest,
O fields forever white
With souls that wear Christ’s raiment,
With crowns of golden light.

One day the heavenly Sower
Shall reap where He hath sown,
And come again rejoicing,
And with Him bring His own;
And then the fan of judgment
Shall winnow from His floor
The chaff into the furnace
That flameth evermore.
O holy, awful Reaper,
Have mercy in the day,
Thou puttest in the sickle,
And cast us not away.