"The Lord shall give that which is good, and our land shall yield her increase."—PSALM lxxxv. 12.
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The seed was sown long months a-go, And, through the win-ter's cold and snow, We trust-ed that God's care would bring The green and ten-der blade in spring, Which che-rished by the sun and rain Of sum-mer, now has yield-ed grain In au-tumn, when the reap-er leaves His cot to cut and bind the sheaves, And load with them the nod-ding wain Which bears them home-ward from the plain. So God's great mer-cies thus a-bound; His love still brings the sea-sons round; His bless-ings fill our hap-py fields, And all our land its in-crease yields: So if we serve Him as we should, Our Lord will give us all things good; And He who doth the ra-vens feed Much more will give us all we need! |
PLAY-ING A-MONG THE SHEAVES.
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Oh, who could there be More mer-ry than we, On this bright har-vest morn. As we fro-lic and play, While we hide a-way, A-mong the sheaves of corn? We may fro-lic still Wher-e-ver we will, But yet we must not tread To waste with our feet The grains of the wheat— The wheat that makes our bread. For God, as we need, Gives the corn to feed And make us well and strong; And to waste in vain His gift of the grain Would grieve Him, and be wrong. |