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Lord of the harvest, God of grace,
Send down thy heavenly rain:
In vain we plant without thine aid,
And water too in vain.
May no vain thoughts, those birds of prey,
Defraud us of our gain;
Nor anxious cares, those baleful thorns,
Choke up the precious grain.
Ne’er may our hearts be like the rock,
Where but the blade can spring,
Which, scorched with heat, becomes by noon
A dead, a useless thing.
Let not the joys thy gospel gives
A transient rapture prove;
Nor may the world by smiles and frowns
Our faith and hope remove.
But may our hearts, like fertile soil,
Receive the heavenly word;
So shall our fair and ripened fruits
Their hundred fold afford.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1851 | # 202 |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
