SAINTS of God! the dawn is brightening,
Token of our coming Lord!
O'er the earth the field is whitening;
Louder rings the Master's word,—
“Pray for reapers
In the harvest of the Lord.” Feebly now they toil in sadness,
Weeping o'er the waste around,
Slowly gathering grains of gladness,
While their echoing cries resound,—
“Pray that reapers
In God's harvest may abound.” Now, O Lord, fulfill thy pleasure,
Breathe upon thy chosen band,
And, with pentecostal measure,
Send forth reapers o'er our land—
Faithful reapers,
Gathering sheaves for thy right hand. Soon shall end the time of weeping;
Soon the reaping time will come,
Heaven and earth together keeping
God's eternal harvest home!
Saints and angels
Shout the world's great harvest home!