There was a man who went to sow
The seed upon his land.
This farmer walked across his field;
The grain flew from his hand.
Now some seed fell along the pathway
Where feet crushed it so;
And what was left the birds ate up:
It could not possibly grow!
More fell in rocks -
No moisture there was found;
Where weeds grew fast
The plants were hemmed around.
But some seed fell in good rich soil
And so the farmer found
That some yielded sixty,
Some yielded eighty,
Some gave a hundred-fold!
What can it mean, this story told
Of seed sown all abroad?
The farmer is our own dear Lord;
The seed, the Word of God.
We are the different sorts of earth
In which the seed He sows
But by the path the devil waits
To try and stop it grow.
Some see and hear
But still they will not believe.
Like birds the Word he takes
And their souls deceive.
But some seed grows in good rich soil
So that our Lord will find
That some will yield sixty,
Some will yield eighty,
Some give a hundred-fold!
It is with joy that others hear
But testing finds them out:
Just like the seed sown in the rocks
They cannot stand the drought.
While others let the thorny weeds
Of this world's cares and woe
Choke out the Word of our dear Lord;
It cannot possibly grow!
May we now hear
And in our hearts keep safe
The Word of God
That others will believe.
And that is how in good rich soil
The Word of God will grow
And soon will yield sixty,
Soon will yield eighty,
Soon give a hundred-fold!
