1 He that goeth forth with weeping.
Bearing precious seed in love,
Never tiring, never sleeping,
Findeth mercy from above:

2 Soft descend the dews of heaven,
Bright the rays celestial shine;
Precious fruits will thus be given
Through an influence all Divine.

3 Sow thy seed; be never weary;
Let no fears thy soul annoy;
Be the prospect ne'er so dreary
Thou shalt reap the fruits of joy.

4 Lo! the scene of verdure brightening,
See the rising grain appear;
Look again; the fields are whitening,
For the harvest-time is near.