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William Cowper - Olney Hymn 16: The Sower
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Ye sons of earth prepare the plough, 
Break up your fallow ground; 
The sower is gone forth to sow, 
And scatter blessings round. 

The seed that finds a stony soil 
Shoots forth a hasty blade; 
But ill repays the sower`s toil, 
Soon wither`d, scorch`d, and dead. 

The thorny ground is sure to balk 
All hopes of harvest there; 
We find a tall and sickly stalk, 
But not the fruitful ear. 

The beaten path and highway side, 
Receive the trust in vain; 
The watchful birds the spoil divide, 
And pick up all the grain. 

But where the Lord of grace and power 
Has bless`d the happy field, 
How plenteous is the golden store 
The deep-wrought furrows yield! 

Father of mercies, we have need 
Of thy preparing grace; 
Let the same Hand that give me seed 
Provide a fruitful place!
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