Verse 1
The gospel-husbandman, like him,
Expects earth’s precious fruit to see,
Not (as the young enthusiasts dream)
In sudden, full maturity,
But waiting still in patient hope
For the long-buried seed’s return,
He sees by slow degrees spring up
The blade, the ear, and then the corn.
Verse 2
He dares not ask almighty power
For signs unpromis’d from above,
Expecting from a single shower
The harvest ripe of perfect love;
But looking for the gradual grace,
The early and the latter rain,
He shall that finish’d holiness,
That perfect love at last obtain.