Classic Poem

The Sower went forth to sow:
His seeds fell like rays of light;
He scattered them high and low,
Till hill and valley were bright.

And there came up a living mass
Of moving things on the earth;
They covered it like the grass
Which the Spring-time giveth birth.

They grew up both tall and fair,
And beautiful to behold;
On their bosoms were flowers rare,
On their heads were crowns of gold.

Then the Reaper went forth to reap
Where the Sower had been to sow,
And he struck his scythe wide and deep,
And he gathered both high and low.

A merry, fine harvest had he,
A harvest both full and fair;
He gathered away in glee,
Uplifting his song to the air:

" I mow you all down! " he sang;
" Ye fall like the drops of rain; "
And his true steel blade it rang
As it cut through the golden grain.

" I gather you all! " he said;
And a swath he laid at his side,
As he swung his scythe in a bed
Of flowers that slept in their pride.

" My garners are full, but more
They build me from day to day;
So I'll lay you all low, and store
You all in my mows away! "

This Reaper ne'er resteth like men,
But worketh unwearied and strong;
He striketh again and again,
And his harvest is very long.

He ceaseth not for the blast,
The night feels his stealthy tread,
And his harvest-home will last
Till he gathereth all with the dead.

But though the Reaper is strong,
The Sower is stronger than he,
And the grain he hath garnered long
The seeds of new life shall be.

They shall all spring forth from the tomb;
They shall breathe an immortal breath;
And the good in glory shall bloom,
For Christ is stronger than Death!