p. 104 | The Missionary

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Mar 3, 1881

The Missionary.

"In due season ye shall reap if ye faint not."

I SEEK not the harvest here, From the seeds of truth I sow; I willingly wait to bind the sheaves In the world to which we go.

Too busy am I in the field To track them as they fly; But I know there's a germ of life in each, And they cannot, cannot die.

The breath of the Lord will waft Each one wherever he will; And there it shall spring, and bear its fruit, His purpose to fulfill.

"Tis a joy to bear the seed, To go with the store of grain, To scatter it here and scatter it there, And sow and sow again.

In the morning's dewy hour, 'Mid noontide's sultry heat, At evening time when the shadows fall, To drop the gospel wheat.

I know not which will thrive, But the promise of God I take; His eye will follow the smallest grain I sow for his dear sake.

"Blessed are ye that sow!" Yes, Lord, the work is sweet; The hardest toil is the dearest joy, The soul's most dainty meat.

Thank God for the sowing time! But who can the bliss foresee When the work is done and the workers throng To the harvest jubilee?

—Christian Times.