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396.

C. M.

Anonymous.

Seed-Time and Harvest Shall Not Cease.

Fountain of life, and God of love!

How rich Thy bounties are!

The rolling seasons, as they move,

Proclaim Thy constant care.

When in the bosom of the earth

The sower hid the grain,

Thy goodness marked its secret birth,

And sent the early rain.

The spring’s sweet influence, Lord, was Thine,

Its mild, refreshing showers;

Thou gav’st the ripening suns to shine,

And summer’s golden hours.

Thy quickening life, forever near,

Matured the swelling grain;—

The bounteous harvest crowns the year,

And plenty fills the plain.

With thankful hearts we trace Thy way

Through all our smiling vales;

Thou, by whose love, nor night nor day,

Seed-time nor harvest, fails!

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