Buried? Yes, but it is seed

Buried? Yes, but it is seed From which Continents may feed; Millions yet may bless the day When that seed was laid away.

Buried! hidden! out of sight! Dwelling in the deepest night; Losing, underneath the sod, Everything, except its God.

Buried, unremember’d, lost So thinks man: but all the cost God has counted to display Life abundant one glad day.

Art thou buried? God’s pure seed Doth thy heart in silence bleed? Change thy sighing into song, Thus alone can harvests come.