Saints of God, the dawn is bright'ning
With the glory of the Lord;
O'er the earth the field is whit'ning;
Now recall the Master's word—
Pray for reapers, pray for reapers,
In the harvest of the Lord.
Long we've sowed with toil and sadness,
Weeping o'er the waste around;
Now we gather grains of gladness;
Ripened wheat may now be found.
Blessed reapers! Blessed reapers!
How their joys may now abound!
Now, O Lord, fulfil thy pleasure,
Use thy consecrated band,
Culling out thy precious treasure
From the tares o'er all the land.
Make us reapers, Make us reapers,
We're awaiting thy command.
Soon shall end the time of reaping,
Soon the happy day will come,
And with joy we shall be keeping
God's eternal harvest home.
O what rapture! O what rapture!
Never, nevermore to roam.