p. 134 | THE LABORER by Sel.

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 10, 1871

THE LABORER.

By Sel.

Sow ye beside all waters, Where the dew of heaven may fall. Ye shall reap if ye be not weary, For the spirit breathes o’er all.

Sow though the thorns may wound thee, One wore the thorns for thee; And though the cold world scorn thee, Patient and hopeful be.

Sow though the tempest lowers, For calmer days will break; The seed in darkness nourished A goodly plant may make.

Sow though the rock repel thee, In its cold and sterile pride, Some cleft there may be riven Where the little seed may hide.

Work in the wild waste places, Though none thy love may own, God guides the down of thistles The wandering wind hath sown.

Sow by the wayside gladly, In the damp, dark caverns low, Where the sunlight seldom reaches, Nor healthful streamlets flow,

Where the withering air of poison Is the young bud’s earliest breath, And the wild, unwholesome blossom Bears in its beauty, death.

The ground impure, o’ertrodden By life’s disfiguring years, Though blood and guilt have stained it, May yet be soft from tears.

Watch not the clouds above thee, Let the whirlwind round thee sweep; God may the seed-time give thee, But another’s hand may reap.

Room on the narrowest ridges The ripening grain will find, That the Lord of the harvest coming, The harvest sheaves may bind.

—Sel.