He That Goeth Forth with Weeping

He that go­eth forth with weep­ing

Bearing pre­cious seed in love

Never tir­ing

nev­er sleep­ing

Findeth mer­cy from above.

Soft des­cend the dews of Heav­en

Bright the rays ce­les­ti­al shine;

Precious fruits will thus be giv­en

Through an in­flu­ence all di­vine.

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.

Lo! the scene of ver­dure bright­en­ing

See the ris­ing grain ap­pear:

Look again; the fields are whit­en­ing

For the har­vest time is near.