with which the reaper does not fill his palm, and the binder of sheaves his bosom.
Walking he who walks and weeps, bearing a trail of seed, shall come again with a ringing cry of joy, bearing his sheaves.
For they sow the wind, and they reap the storm wind. A stalk is not to him; the bud shall make no flour. If it does make it, strangers will swallow it up.
For the one sowing to his own flesh will reap corruption of the flesh. But the one sowing to the Spirit will reap everlasting life of the Spirit.