1
Far
and near the fields are teeming
with
the waves of ripened grain;
far
and near their gold is gleaming
o'er
the sunny slope and plain.
Chorus:
Lord
of harvest, send forth reapers;
hear
us, Lord, to thee we cry;
send
them now the sheaves to gather,
ere
the harvest-time pass by.
2
Send
them forth with morn's first beaming,
send
them in the noontide's glare;
when
the sun's last rays are gleaming,
bid
them gather ev'rywhere. [Chorus]
3
Thou
whom Christ the Lord is sending,
gather
now the sheaves of gold;
heav'nward
then at evening wending,
thou
shalt come with joy untold. [Chorus]
Author:
James Oren Thompson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtpIP1_6jTQ&list=RDUtpIP1_6jTQ&start_radio=1
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