In the glad time of the har­vest,
In the grand mil­len­ni­al year,
When the King shall take His scep­ter,
And to judge the world ap­pear,
Earth and sea shall yield their trea­sure,
All shall stand be­fore the throne;
Just awards shall then be giv­en,
When the King shall claim His own.

O the rap­ture of His peo­ple!
Long they’ve dwelt in earth’s low sod,
With their hearts e’er turn­ing home­ward,
Rich in faith and love to God.
They shall share the life im­mor­tal,
They shall know as they are known,
They shall pass the pear­ly por­tal,
When the King shall claim His own.

Long they’ve toiled with­in the har­vest,
Sown the pre­cious seed with tears;
Soon they’ll drop their hea­vy bur­dens
In the glad mil­len­ni­al years;
They shall share the bliss of Hea­ven,
Never more to sigh or moan;
Starry crowns shall then be giv­en,
When the King shall claim His own.

We shall greet the loved and lov­ing,
Who have left us lone­ly here;
Every heart­ache will be ban­ished
When the Sav­ior shall ap­pear;
Never grieved by sin or sor­row,
Never wea­ry or alone;
O we long for that glad mor­row
When the King shall claim His own.