At harvest time our eyes behold

1 At harvest time our eyes behold
Full sheaves of ripened grain,
But whence have come these fields of gold
To beautify the plain?
Ere man could reap the rich supply
Which meets a country’s need,
Into the ready ground to die
There fell the tiny seed.

2 Through storm and rain, ‘neath darkening skies,
After the seed is sown,
Deep buried in the earth it lies,
Abiding yet alone;
And men the precious fruits await,
Long patience follows toil,
Before the harvest rich and great
Bursts from the furrowed soil.

3 O in the morning sow thy seed,
At eve stay not thy hand;
Though tears may fall, and hearts may bleed
Obey thy Lord’s command.
Part with thy best; unless it die
It must abide alone;
But God is pledged to multiply
Seed for his Kingdom sown.


Source: The Song Book of the Salvation Army #923