1 O God, whose word well-planted
yields fruit a hundred-fold,
we praise your graces granted
to those who sowed of old,
who by their witness scattered
good seed upon the soil
where others, reaping, gathered
the harvest of their toil.
2 O God of seed and harvest,
of sun and soil and rain,
attend the word we sow,
lest its planting be in vain.}
SAend showers of your Spirit,
bright sunshine of your grace,
that multitudes who hear it
your gospel may embrace.
3 O God, your final harvest
of history's ancient field
will test with truth the proudest
that human work can yield.
Oppressions' blight will vanish,
fair freedom's fruits increase;
and love and joy will flourish
to clothe the earth with peace.
