We are sowing . . . . How true it is.

We are sowing, daily sowing

Countless seeds of good and ill,

Scattered on the level lowland,

Cast upon the windy hill;

* * *

Seeds that lie unchanged, unquickened,

Lifeless on the teeming mold;

Seeds that live and grow and flourish

When the sower's hand is cold.

By a whisper sow we blessings;

By a breath we scatter strife.

In our words and thoughts and actions

Lie the seeds of death and life.

* * *

*Hymn #216.