1 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, tho' the thorns may wound thee—
One wore the thorns for thee,
And tho' the cold world scorn thee,
Patient and hopeful be.
Sow ye beside all waters,
With a blessing and a prayer,
Name Him whose hand upholds us,
And sow thou everywhere.

2 Sow, tho' the rock repel thee,
In its cold and sterile pride;
Some cleft there may be riven,
Where the little seed may hide.
Fear not, for some will flourish;
And tho' the tares abound,
Like willows by the waters
Will scattered grain be found.
Work, while the daylight lasteth,
Ere the shades of night come on;
Ere the Lord of the vineyard cometh,
And the laborer's work is done.

3 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.
Have faith, tho' ne'er beholding
The seed burst from its tomb;
Thou know'st not which may perish,
Or what be spared to bloom.
Room on the narrowest ridges
The ripened grain will find,
That the Lord of the harvest coming,
In the harvest-sheaves may bind.