The Reward

From green to gold
The year grows old,
With beautiful increase;
The seasons wane
To ripened grain
And Nature’s deepest peace.

The same sure plan
Is thine, O man!
Alike for sod and soul,
The law of love,—
Enthroned above—
That guides thee to thy goal.

Have faith in God:—
Who gives the clod
Its meed of fruit or flower,
Shall crown thy cares,
Thy tears, thy prayers,
With an immortal dower.