First Line: Oh, scatter seeds of loving deeds,

Oh, scatter seeds of loving deeds
Along the fertile field ;
For grain will grow from what you sow,
And fruitful harvest yield.

Then day by day, . . . along your way, . . .
The seeds of pro . . . mise cast, . . .
That ripened grain, . . . from hill and plain, . . .
Be gathered home ... at last. . . .

2 Though sown in tears through weary years,
The seed will surely live ;
Though great the cost, it is not lost,
For God will fruitage give.

3 The harvest-home of God will come ;
And after toil and care,
With joy untold your sheaves of gold
Will all be garnered there.