1 As pilgrims and strangers we journey thro’ life,
Thro’ sunshine and shadow, thro’ calm and thro’ strife;
Each day we are scattering seed as we go;
Some day ’twill be harvest—"we reap what we sow."
1 Tho’ weary and worn and alone in your way,
And storm clouds are gathering dark in your day,
Weep not, toiling one, neither faint as you go;
The harvest is nearing—"we reap what we sow."
3 Tho’ life may appear as a cold barren waste,
And comes no return of the bread you have cast,
Continue to do loving deeds as you go;
The harvest is nearing—"we reap what we sow."
4 We’ll reap what we sow when the harvest is come,
Some day we shall garner the deeds we have done;
Then heed not the storm nor the cold winds that blow;
Toil on till the harvest—"we reap what we sow."