These lines are by Edward Rowland Sill:
Clear water on smooth rock
Could give no foothold for a single flower,
Or slenderest shaft of grain:
The stone must crumble under storm and rain,
The forests crash beneath the whirlwind’s power,
And broken boughs from any a tempest-shock,
And fallen leaves from many a wintry hour,
Must mingle in the mold,
Before the harvest whitens on the plain,
Bearing a hundredfold.
Patience, O weary heart!
Let all thy sparkling hours depart,
And all thy hopes be withered with the frost,
And every effort tempest-tossed--
So when all life’s green leaves
Are fallen, and moldered underneath the sod,
Thou shalt not go too lightly to thy God,
But heavy with full sheaves. (Text.)
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