Go forth! though weeping, bearing precious seed,
Still sow in faith, though not a blade appears;
Go forth! the Lamb Himself the way doth lead,
The everlasting arms are o’er thee spread;
Thou’lt reap in joy all thou hast sown in tears.
Take up thy burden—bear it joyfully —
Fear not sin’s darkest cave to enter in;
Though fierce thy foe, yet Israel’s Lord is nigh,
And o’er thy fellow-men He hears thee sigh,
Seeking for Him thou lov’st, a soul to win.
The pastures of the wilderness may mock
Thine earnest labors. Look thou to the hills;
God shall the chambers of His dew unlock,
Till living waters from the smitten Rock
With fertilizing streams each furrow fills.
Ask not for sheaves, a holy patience keep;
Look for the early and the latter rain;
For all that faith hath scattered, love shall reap;
Gladness is sown—thy Lord may let thee weep;
But not one tear of thine shall be in vain.
‘Tis thy Beloved gently beckons on;
His love illumes for thee each passing cloud;
When you fair land of light at last is won,
And seed time o’er, and harvest work begun,
He’ll own the fruit that shadows now enshroud.
Behold! the Master standeth at the door;
Cry for Sabbath’s—raise thou thy voice;
Short hour of labor—soon it shall be o’er;
The dawn is breaking—night shall be no more,
And thou, with him who reaps, shalt then rejoice.
From “Whispers in the Palms.”