We Scatter Seeds

We scat­ter seeds with care­less hand

And dream we ne’er shall see them more;

But for a thou­sand years

Their fruit ap­pears

In weeds that mar the land

Or health­ful store.

The deeds we do

the words we say

Into still air they seem to fleet;

We count them ev­er past;

But they shall last—

In the dread judg­ment day

And we shall meet.

I charge thee by the years gone by

For the love’s sake of breth­ren dear

Keep

then

the one true way

In work or play

Lest in that world their cry

Of woe thou hear.