511.
Parable 7.
The grain of Mustard Seed. Matt. xiii.
1
The grain of mustard seed is sown
Small, and despised: by means unknown,
It rises now, and branches throws,
In which the birds of heaven repose.
2
An emblem of the seed of grace!
At first, its progress scarce we trace,
Till, to prepare for flowers and fruits,
It spreads its limbs, and strikes its roots.
3
O, may our hearts this grace display,
Water'd, and growing, day by day!
May the immortal germ survive
Whate'er would harm, and in us thrive!
4
It must be planted here below,
And here its earliest buds must blow,
Still watch'd by heaven's unsleeping eye,
Or it will soon decline, and die!
5
Though now, of tenderest hue and form,
It shall withstand the roughest storm,
And bear, beyond this world of strife,
Its fruit to everlasting life!
