Four bad soils are mentioned, and only one which is good. A lesson to us to examine ourselves carefully, lest we be found barren.
Sow in the morn thy seed,
At eve hold not thy hand;
To doubt and fear give thou no heed;
Broadcast it o’er the land!
Thou canst not toil in vain:
Cold, heat, and moist, and dry
Shall foster and mature the grain,
For garners in the sky.
Then, when the glorious end,
The day of God, shall come,
The angel reapers shall descend,
And heaven sing, “Harvest home!”