Many a Day the Church Grows Weary { Many a Day the Church Grows Weary STOCKWELL-Darius E. Jones Many a Day the Church Grows Weary } Many a day the church grows weary, Worn like Israel of old, With the strokes of deep affliction, And with many a pain untold. Yet her constant step is onward; Precious seed is ever sown In the furrows foes are ploughing- Plenteous harvests ever grown. For the Lord our is faithful; And the disciplines he sends Are our enemies' worst allies, And the church's choicest friends. As the grass upon the housetops, Wither hopes from wicked hands- As the sheaves bound in his bosom Are the blessings he commands.