First the grain, and then the blade-
The one destroyed, the other made;
So Life, by Death the reaper cast to earth
Shall rise again at last;
For 't is the service of the sod
To render God the things of God. (F.F. Brown quoting Tabb "Earth's Tribute")
The seed is scattered, it is sown
It has power of it's own
The Sower casts it all around
It falls upon the fallow ground
The sower sows in faithful toil
Some on rocky, shallow soil
Some eaten by the birds that swarm
Some is withered, choked by thorns
The seed remains the same
With the mystery of the power it contains
What produces fruit for God
Is the service of the sod
Know the kingdom's come to you
If you have ears to hear the truth
If you have eyes that you might see
You are the soil meant for the seed
The seed remains the same
With the mystery of the power it contains
What produces fruit for God
Is the service of the sod
The seed remains the same
With the mystery of the power it contains
What produces fruit for God
Is the service of the sod
The mystery of the seed remains
It is so small and self-contained
The sower need not ascertain
And though he sleeps, produces grain