From which Continents may feed;
Millions yet may bless the day
When that seed was laid away.
Dwelling in the deepest night;
Losing, underneath the sod,
Everything, except its God.
So thinks man: but all the cost
God has counted to display
Life abundant one glad day.
Doth thy heart in silence bleed?
Change thy sighing into song,
Thus alone can harvests come.