After the sow­ing of sin is all done,
After the glo­ry of earth has been won,
After the sands of thy life have all run,
Oh, what shall thy reap­ing be?
Sowing, sow­ing, sow­ing in Sa­tan’s might;
Reaping, reap­ing, reap­ing eter­nal night.

After the plea­sures of sin are all past,
After the wealth of the world is amassed,
When the death an­gel you face at the last,
Oh, what shall thy reap­ing be?
Sowing, sow­ing, sow­ing in Sa­tan’s might;
Reaping, reap­ing, reap­ing eter­nal night.

Come to the Sav­ior of sin­ners, come home!
Why will you long­er so aim­less­ly roam?
While He is plead­ing, O wan­der­er, come,
The Mas­ter is wait­ing for thee.
Come home, come home, like as a wea­ry dove.
Come home, come home, un­to thy Fa­ther’s love.

Cease from thy way­ward­ness, Je­sus in­vites,
List to the Bride who with plead­ing unites,
While the blest Spi­rit to pray­er now in­cites,
The Mas­ter is wait­ing for thee.
Come home, come home, like as a wea­ry dove.
Come home, come home, un­to thy Fa­ther’s love.