“He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.” Ps. 126:6.
To every clime, where lost by sin,
The grace of Christ a soul may win,
From here Thy messengers go forth
From east to west, from south to north.
Perchance, in heaven one day to me
Some blessed soul may come and say,
All hail, beloved! But for thee
My soul to death had been a prey.