The sower in love had graciously sown,—
And the sheaves are still coming in.
The years speed on; in manhood's glow
He is sowing with vigilant care;
There are fields that call for the Seed of Life,—
He is finding them everywhere.
He is steadfastly doing the Master's work,
Unheeding the clamor and din
Of a restless world; he quietly sows,—
And the sheaves are still coming in.