Sowing the Seed Daniel S. Warner, 1887 copyright status is Public Domain Subject: Sowing/Reaping Scripture: Isaiah 32:20 Sowing the Seed [.xml] Barney E. Warren, 1887 arr., pub.1900 copyright status is Public Domain Key: E♭ Meter: 8.8.8.8 D Learn about music formats... view sheet music [.pdf] [.sib] stop midi [.mid] This song in other languages: .pdf Deutsch (German) .pdf Pусский (Russian)	Now playing MIDI. It may take a few seconds to begin. Unheeding winter’s cruel blast, We venture heaven’s seed to cast, Both late and early plant the truth In aged hearts and tender youth. Refrain: Then sow the seed in every field, And grace will bring the golden yield; We soon shall sing the joyful song, And shout the blessed harvest home. Shall we be found with only leaves When Jesus comes to gather sheaves? Nay, sowing daily o’er the land, We’ll come with joyful sheaves in hand. Nor is the precious labor hard, Its glory is its own reward; We plant in hearts of grim despair A life that blooms as Eden fair. Oh, were this life the utmost span, The closing destiny of man, No toil could half so blessed prove As sowing seeds of peace and love. But heaven’s bright eternal years Have bottled up our sowing tears; There we shall greet in holy bliss The souls we turned to righteousness.

Sowing the Seed

Sowing the Seed [.xml]

Barney E. Warren, 1887
arr., pub.1900

Key: E♭

Meter: 8.8.8.8 D

show score view sheet music [.pdf] [.sib]

This song in other languages:

PDF .pdf Deutsch (German)

PDF .pdf Pусский (Russian)

Now playing MIDI.

It may take a few seconds to begin.

Unheeding winter’s cruel blast,
We venture heaven’s seed to cast,
Both late and early plant the truth
In aged hearts and tender youth.
- Refrain:
  Then sow the seed in every field,
  And grace will bring the golden yield;
  We soon shall sing the joyful song,
  And shout the blessed harvest home.
Shall we be found with only leaves
When Jesus comes to gather sheaves?
Nay, sowing daily o’er the land,
We’ll come with joyful sheaves in hand.
Nor is the precious labor hard,
Its glory is its own reward;
We plant in hearts of grim despair
A life that blooms as Eden fair.
Oh, were this life the utmost span,
The closing destiny of man,
No toil could half so blessed prove
As sowing seeds of peace and love.
But heaven’s bright eternal years
Have bottled up our sowing tears;
There we shall greet in holy bliss
The souls we turned to righteousness.