Scripture Verse

Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest. John 4:35


Edward H. Plumptre

Words: Ed­ward H. Plump­tre, 1871. Writ­ten for the Ha­rvest Fes­ti­val at Pluck­ley Church, Kent, where Plump­tre was rec­tor.

Music: Ma­du­rai George M. Gar­rett, 1872 (🔊 pdf nwc).

George M. Garrett


Lo, summer comes again!
And after springtide rain,
The quickening sunbeams
Flood the world with light;
See, high in night’s clear skies,
The joy of longing eyes,
The moon of harvest
Shines serenely bright.

O Lord of Heav’n and earth,
Who givest joy and mirth,
Open our lips to show
Thy wondrous praise;
Our hearts are dull and cold,
We leave Thy love untold;
O give us strength our
Anthems glad to raise.

Each month we sow or reap,
Each hour we toil or sleep,
Thou givest life and joy,
And Thou alone;
O grant to each and all
When death’s dark shadows fall,
To stand true workers
Round our Master’s throne.

So, life’s long task-work o’er,
Set free for evermore,
We shall sit down at Thy
Great harvest feast;
Reaper and sower met,
The burning heat forget,
And taste God’s love,
The greatest as the least.

Yea, Lord, Thou too dost claim,
The Sower’s mystic name;
Thou sendest forth Thy reapers
To their field;
O be it theirs to bear
The full corn in the ear,
When Thy true seed its
Hundred-fold shall yield.

Root out the evil tares,
Earth’s vexing griefs and cares,
Bind the hot blasts that wither
And destroy;
And when the hour is come
To bring the full sheaves home,
Bid men and angels
Share Thy harvest joy.