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.
Refrain:
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.
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.