The angel comes, he comes to reap
The harvest of the Lord!
O’er all the earth with fatal sweep
Wide waves his flaming sword.
And who are they, in sheaves to bide
The fire of vengeance bound?
The tares, whose rank luxuriant pride
Choked the fair crop around.
And who are they, reserved in store
God’s treasure-house to fill?
The wheat, a hundred-fold that bore
Amid surrounding ill.
O King of Mercy! grant us power
Thy fiery wrath to flee!
In Thy destroying angel’s hour
O gather us to Thee!