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The Gleaners

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Oct 5, 1916

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 93, No. 49.

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The Gleaners

By S. J. Townsend

S. J. TOWNSEND
Thus spake Ruth the Moabitess, “Let me go and take my place In the fields, to glean there near him in whose sight I shall find grace.” Said Naomi, “Go, my daughter.” And she hastened forth to glean In the field, behind the reapers that in Boaz’ grain were seen.
Though we may not now be gleaners in the barley fields, like Ruth, We can find rich, golden gleaning in the ripened fields, for Truth. They are white unto the harvest, and if we but enter in, We may garner in the righteous from the outworld’s great fields of sin.
'Tis the harvest of the ages, 'mid the shafts of darkness hurled; And the reapers are the angels, and the field is all the world. By the Holy Spirit's power they are reaping human hearts, But to us God gives the gleaning, by the grace his love imparts.
There's a world in anguish crying of man's inhumanity; There is mourning on the mountains; there is sorrow on the sea, And the awful tide is rising, as the tempests lash the main, And the shores of earth are heaping with the bodies of the slain.
God is scourging now the nations, as the din of battle rolls. As he deals with earthly kingdoms, so he deals with human souls; For they all alike shall perish who refuse to serve the Lord. But to us he leaves for gleaning them that tremble at his word.
On the fair Judean mountains God a sacrifice doth call, And erelong at Armageddon shall earth's mighty nations fall. While the tares are bound for burning, we may bind the golden grain, And at eve may come rejoicing that we have not gleaned in vain.
Whose the world's vast hoards of silver, whose the gold that men refine? Saith the Lord: “E'en all the cattle on a thousand hills are mine. Mine, the gold; and mine, the silver; give them to my work today.” Let us give, as faithful stewards, of our bounties while we may.
When the summer shall be ended, and the harvest time be past, And the Master of the harvest due rewards shall give at last, As we bear our sheaves so precious, and shall lay them at his feet, How our hearts will thrill with rapture as we hear his welcome sweet!
Yes, the reapers are the angels, and the field is all the world; But to all who love and fear him, Christ a banner has unfurled; And that banner floating o'er us, with the lone inscription, “Love!” Leads us onward to the gleaning for his garners fair, above.