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I SAW in seed-time a husbandman at plough in a very raining day; asking him the reason why he would not rather leave off than labour in such foul weather, his answer was returned me in their country rhyme:

Sow beans in the mud,

And they’11 come up like a wood.

This could not but mind me of David’s expression, They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. [Psalm cxxvi. 5, 6.] He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.

These last five years have been a wet and woful seed-time to me, and many of my afflicted brethren. Little hope have we, as yet, to come again to our own homes, and in a literal sense, now to bring our sheaves, which we see others daily carry away on their shoulders. But if we shall not share in the former or latter harvest here on earth, the third and last in heaven we hope undoubtedly to receive.

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