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Summer ended, Harvest o'er,
Lord, to Thee our songs we pour
For the valley’s golden yield,
for the Fruits of Tree and Fields;
For the promise ever sure,
That while Heaven and Earth endure,
Seed time, Harvest, Earth and Heat
Shall their yearly round complete.
For the care, which while we slept,
watched o’er field and furrow kept.
Watch o’er all the buried grain,
soon to burst to life again,
when all earthly gifts must fail
and our years have told their tale.
When in death our flesh is sown,
watch, Lord Jesus, o’er thine own.
When the unknown hour is come
and the last great harvest home
and the reaping angels bring
tares and wheat before the King,
when the tribes of earth shall weep
and the goats shall leave the sheep,
Jesus, may we gathered be
Then the angel cry shall sound,
“Praise the Lamb, the lost are found.”
And the answering song shall be,
“Alleluia, praise to thee.”
Praise to thee, the toil is o’er;
blight and curse shall be no more.
The mighty work is done;
glory to the Three in One.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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7 7 7 7 D
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1919 | # 327 | | 1869 | # 277 | | 1885 | # 377 |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
