Читать книгу Prisons and Prayer; Or, a Labor of Love - Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton - Страница 2

The seed I have scattered in springtime with weeping,

And watered with tears and with dews from on high,

Another may shout while the harvester's reaping,

Shall gather my grain in the sweet by and by.

Chorus—

Over and over, yes, deeper and deeper,

My heart is pierced through with life's sorrowing cry,

But the tears of the sower and the songs of the reaper

Shall mingle together in joy by and by;

By and by, by and by, by and by, by and by,

Yes the tears of the sower and the songs of the reaper

Shall mingle together in joy by and by.

Another may reap what in springtime I've planted,

Another rejoice in the fruit of my pain,

Not knowing my tears when in summer I fainted,

While toiling, sad-hearted, in sunshine and rain.

The thorns will have choked and the summer sun blasted

The most of the seed which in springtime I've sown,

But the Lord who has watched while my weary toil lasted

Will give me a harvest for what I have done.