At eve hold not thine hand ;
To doubt and fear give thou no heed,
Broadcast it o'er the land.
2 Thou know'st not which may thrive,
The late or early sown :
Grace keeps the chosen germ alive,
When and wherever strown.
3 And duly shall appear
In verdure, beauty, strength,
The tender blade, the stalk, the ear,
And the full corn at length.
4 Thou canst not toil in vain ;
Cold, heat, and moist, and dry,
Shall foster and mature the grain
For garners in the sky.
5 Hence, when the glorious end,
The day of God, is come,
The angel-reapers shall descend,
And heaven cry, Harvest-home !