SIN'S HARVEST by C. M. Snow

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 30, No. 45.

SIN'S HARVEST.

By C. M. Snow

By C. M. SNOW.

The shades of sin are length'ning Over the dark'ning land; The sun of the day is setting, The silently slipping sand Runs lower each passing moment, Sinks swifter in the glass— We're viewing the last of the harvest As the ominous moments pass.

The sun of the day is setting, And silently, swiftly, soon, They reap the last of the harvest By the lingering harvest moon. There'll be no other sowing, No other planting year; The old earth nears her Sabbath, The harvest of God is here.

Six thousand years of sowing, Six thousand years of sin, Six thousand years of sorrow, Bring all their reapings in. The Books of God are closing Their record of the years— For some, a home in glory; For others, bitter tears.