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Show "Faith Without Works Is Dead." Said Farmer Jones, in a whining tone. To his good old neighbor Gray. "I've worn my knees through to the bone But it ain't no use to pray. "I've prayed to the Lord a thousand times For to make that 'ere corn grow; An' why your'n beats it so and climbs I'd give a deal to know." Said Farmer Gray to his neighbor Jones, In his easy, quiet way: "When prayers get mixed with lazy bones. They don't make farmin' pay." j "Your weeds, I notice, are good an' tall, ' ! You may pray for corn till the heavens ! fall. ! If you don't dig up the tares. J "I mix my prayers with a little toil ! Along in every raw: j An' work this mixture into the soil ' Quite vig'rous. with a hoe. j "So. while I'm praying, I use my hoe, I An' do my level best. i To keep down the weeds along each j row, I An' the Lord. He does the rest. j I "It's well for to pray, both night an' j morn. As every farmer knows; 1 But the place to pray for thrifty corn i Is right between the rows. j "You must use your hands, while praying, pray-ing, though. If an answer you would gt-t.- For prayer-worn knees, an', a rustv j hoe j Never raised a big crop yet. 1 "An so I believe, my good old friend, j If you moan to win the day. ! From plowing, clean to the harvest's ! end. J You must hoe as well as pray." |