The Songs of HARVEST

Tis not the Till'd, Poor, Lifeless Earth Which gives me all my Store. No: Tis my GOD! From Him comes forth All that has fill'd my Floor.

For what Iv'e gather'd from the Field Thee, Oh! my GOD I bless. But, Oh! that I Fruits too may yield To Him who me does dress!

My Soul, with Gladness fill'd, and Food; Returns, what shall be made? In this Abundance serve thy GOD, In Him for ever glad.

Now in Obedience all my Days Hard at my Work I'll keep; Him I'l take pains to please and praise; Assur'd, That I shall Reap.

Yea, If I must thro' Sorrows go, And Weeping Eyes employ; I'm sure, That they in Tears who Sow At length shall Reap with Joy.

But, Oh, What shall I Reap anon! What Eyes did ever see, Or to what Man on Earth is known, What will the Harvest be!

My JESUS, My Rewarder Thou Wilt be; and more than so: Thou my Reward wilt be. And now No Higher can I go.