Behold! the heavenly Sower
                                        
                                        Goes forth with better seed,
                                        
                                        The Word of sure salvation,
                                        
                                        With feet and hands that bleed;
                                        
                                        Here in His Church ’tis scattered,
                                        
                                        Our spirits are the soil;
                                        
                                        Then let an ample fruitage
                                        
                                        Repay His pain and toil.
                                        
                                        Oh, beauteous is the harvest,
                                        
                                        Wherein all goodness thrives,
                                        
                                        And this the true thanksgiving,
                                        
                                        The first fruits of our lives.