O God, by whom the seed is given,

By whom the harvest blest;

Whose word, like manna showered from heaven,

Is planted in our breast;

2 Preserve it from the passing feet,

And plunderers of the air;

The sultry’s sun’s intenser heat,

And weeds of worldly care!

3 Though buried deep, or thinly strewn,

Do thou thy grace supply;

The hope, in earthly furrows sown,

Shall ripen in the sky.