Not by Thy migh­ty hand,
Thy won­drous works alone,
But by the mar­vels of Thy Word,
Thy glo­ry, Lord, is known.

Forth from the eter­nal gates,
Thine ev­er­last­ing home,
To sow the seed of truth alone,
Thou didst vouch­safe to come.

And still from age to age,
Thou, gra­cious Lord, hast been
The Bear­er forth of good­ly seed,
The Sow­er still un­seen.

And Thou wilt come again,
And Heav’n be­neath Thee bow,
To reap the har­vest Thou hast sown,
Sower and reap­er Thou.

Watch, Lord, Thy har­vest field,
With Thine un­sleep­ing eye,
The child­ren of the king­dom keep
To Thy epi­pha­ny!

That, when in Thy great day
The tares shall se­vered be,
We may be sure­ly ga­thered in
With all Thy saints to Thee.