Classic Poem

The ploughing of the Lord is deep,
On ocean or on land;
His furrows cross the mountain steep,
They cross the sea-washed sand.

Wise men and prophets know not how,
But work their Master's will;
The kings and nations drag the plough
His purpose to fulfil.

They work His will because they must
On hillside or on plain;
The clods are broken into dust,
And ready for the grain.

Then comes the planting of the Lord,
His kingdom cometh now;
The ocean's deepest depths are stirred,
And all their secrets show.

Where prophets trod His deserts broad,
Where monarchs dragged the plough,
Behold the seedtime of His word;
The Sower comes to sow.