TEARFUL SOWING: JOYFUL REAPING.
By O. W. Rogers
A sower scattered precious seed,
While down his cheeks fell scalding tears;
The soil was foul with thorn and weed,
The air with cruel threats and jeers. But in the earth the seed lay still,
And gently fell the gracious rain;
When, lo, the valley and the hill
Were covered o’er with waving grain! Think not the seed that’s sown in tears
Is doomed to perish in the soil;
The reaping, in the coming years,
Shall more than recompense the toil. The tears that moistened all the way
Passed o’er by weary, aching feet,
Will richer make on harvest day
The golden grains of garnered wheat. Ah! tears must fall as out we go
To sow our seed upon the plain,
If glad rejoicing we would know,
And sing the reaper’s glad refrain!
—The Advance.