| OCR Text |
Show The Harvest Once ebbed a sipphlro soa by vagrant breesea stirred, Now stubble bristles drear where reapers' reap-ers' blades have whirred. Tho rlponed. sun-kissed fields have yielded yield-ed up their gold; The yeomen In tholr bins the garnered bushels bold. Tho season's wealth Is In; tho scales have mado their test The harvest sun, of red, has settled In tho West! The harvest year ts done! What treasure didst thou gain? What said the scales In pounds when weighing out thy grain? How planted thee? And what? And how beneath the sun Didst thou thy dally vigils keep with work begun? Didst toll a faithful day o'er healthy planted seed Or didst thou, careless, tarry whilst the grass and weed Crept In and left their suckers on thy harvest field? For by that record did thy garmted harvest harv-est yield! Ahl by thy dally tending shalt Life's harvest be, A-scant of bushels or a bursting sight to seel The harvest field of Life yields what thyself thy-self hath sown, And what thou garnereth Is all thy very ownl Then on tho field of Life It pays With care to tend Thy dally duty to the harvest's golden end. Sow only wholesome wheat In kernels sound and strong-Pluck strong-Pluck out tho stifling gruwth-the weeds and tares of wrong! Once ebbed a sapphire sea by vagrant breezes stirred, Now stubble bristles drear where reapers' blades have whirred What gloanest thou? A harvest from a laden field Or shrunken grain? What Is the record of thy yield? |
