Far and Near the Fields Are Teeming

Verse 1

Far and near the fields are teeming

with the sheaves of ripened grain;

Far and near their gold is gleaming

O'er the summy slope and plain.

Verse 2

Send them forth with morn's first beaming,

Send them in the noon-tides's glare;

When the sun's last rays are streaming,

bid them gather everywhere.

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.

Verse 3

O thou, whom thy Lord is sending,

gather now the sheaves of gold;

Heavenward 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.