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

Chorus:
Lo, the scene of verdure bright'ning!
See the rising grain appear;
Look! the waving fields are whit'ning,
For the harvest time is near.

2 Soft descend the dews of heaven,
Bright the rays celestial shine;
Precious fruits will thus be given,
Thro' an influence all divine. [Chorus]

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. [Chorus]