First the grain, and then the blade-The one destroyed, the other made;So Life, by Death the reaper cast to earthShall rise again at last;For 't is the service of the sodTo render God the things of God. (F.F. Brown quoting Tabb "Earth's Tribute")The seed is scattered, it is sownIt has power of it's ownThe Sower casts it all aroundIt falls upon the fallow groundThe sower sows in faithful toilSome on rocky, shallow soilSome eaten by the birds that swarmSome is withered, choked by thornsThe seed remains the sameWith the mystery of the power it containsWhat produces fruit for GodIs the service of the sodKnow the kingdom's come to youIf you have ears to hear the truthIf you have eyes that you might seeYou are the soil meant for the seedThe seed remains the sameWith the mystery of the power it containsWhat produces fruit for GodIs the service of the sodThe seed remains the sameWith the mystery of the power it containsWhat produces fruit for GodIs the service of the sodThe mystery of the seed remainsIt is so small and self-containedThe sower need not ascertainAnd though he sleeps, produces grain
