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1 Long, O Master, in Thy vineyard,
Through the dust and heat of day,
I have toiled, and with my burden
Come I now through shadows gray.
Toiling in the vineyard
All day long with weary feet,
Glad to rest when evening cometh,
And the hours are cool and sweet.
2 Tangled vines and faded flowers
Hidden lie among the sheaves;
Look’st Thou sorrowful, O Master?
Is there nothing else but leaves? [Refrain]
3 Gathered I the lovely flowers,
With their dewy fragrance sweet,
Hoping that amid their beauty
Thou might’st find some grains of wheat. [Refrain]
4 Purge, Thou, then, the sheaves so worthless,
That I lay at Thy dear feet,
So they yield Thee at the harvest
Only finest of the wheat. [Refrain]Source: The Bright Array #82