1 All silently, so silently,
The harvest sown today,
Is breaking from a thousand fields—
God’s planters, plant away.

2 For other harvests earth may have,
Yet they shall soon decay;
Look up, the rains of sowing fall,
God’s planters, plant away.

3 Sow swiftly, surely, passing not
The windblown, rocky way;
In God’s own time the yield will come,
God’s planters, plant away.

4 The purple light of early dawn
Can never brook delay,
No less the morn of sowing wait,
God’s planters, plant away.