WHAT WILL THE HARVEST BE?

We are sowing, we are reaping, We are laughing, we are weeping For the seeds we sow. We are giving, we are hoarding, Are withholding or dispersing Broadcast o’er the land. Are they thorns, or are they roses? Are they weeds, or are they posies? That we cull from life? What confronts us at Life’s evening? What will greet us on awaking? Will it be Love’s flowers? O the joy of loving, living, If to others we are giving Out of our heart’s store. Let us do what is before us, Not discouraged, not unhappy, If some good we’ve done. When we wake in the hereafter, Is it tears, or is it laughter, That will meet us there? We shall sometimes be confronted, And by phantoms shall be haunted— Phantoms of our past. Let no thought of dire deception In our hearts have e’er inception, Then not haunted we By the ghosts of indiscretion, By ill deeds and degradation.— Let us all beware Of temptations e’er surrounding, And of evil e’er abounding.— We must shun them all.