Text: | Hast to the plow thou put thy hand |
Author: | Nikolai Frederick Severin Grundtvig, 1783-1872 |
Translator: | Jens C. Aaberg |
Hast to the plow thou put thy hand
Let not thy spirit waver,
Heed not the world’s allurements grand,
Nor pause for Sodom’s favor.
But plow thy furrow, sow the seed,
Though tares and thorns thy work impede;
For they, who sow with weeping,
With joy shall soon be reaping.
But should at times thy courage fail—
For all may fail and falter—
Let not the tempting world prevail
On thee thy course to alter.
Each moment lost in faint retreat
May bring disaster and defeat.
If foes bid thee defiance,
On God be thy reliance.
If steadfast in the race we keep,
Our course is soon completed.
And death itself is but a sleep,
Its dreaded might defeated.
But those who conquer in the strife
Obtain the victor’s crown of life
And shall in constant gladness
Forget these days of sadness.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Hast to the plow thou put thy hand |
Author: | Nikolai Frederick Severin Grundtvig, 1783-1872 |
Translator: | Jens C. Aaberg (1945) |
Meter: | 8,7,8,7,8,8,7,7 |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1945 |