Hymn 283 - Far and Near

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.

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.

O thou, whom thy Lord is sending,

Gather now the sheaves of gold;

Heav’nward then at evening wending,

Thou shalt come with joy untold.

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.