The Harvest Field

This is the field; the world below,
In which the sower, came to sow,
Jesus the wheat, Satan the tares,
For so the word of truth declares;
And soon the reaping time will come,
And angels shout the harvest home.

Most awful truth; and is it so,
Must all the world the harvest know;
Is every man the wheat or tare;
Then for the harvest O prepare:
For soon the reaping time will come,
And angels shout the harvest home.

To love my sins, a saint to appear,
To grow the wheat, and be a tare;
will serve me while on earth below,
Where tares and wheat together grow;
But soon the reaping time will come,
And angels shout the harvest home.

But all that truly righteous be,
Their Father's kingdom soon shall see;
Shine like the sun forever there,
He that hath ears, O let him hear:
And soon the reaping time will come,
And angels shout the harvest home.

Words: Joseph Hinchcliffe (1760-1807)
Tune - Thomas Clark (1775-1859)

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We bless the Lord, the just, the good

We bless the Lord, the just, the good,

Who fills our hearts with joy and food:

Who pours His blessings from the skies,

And loads our days with rich supplies.

He sends the sun his circuit round,

To cheer the fruits, to warm the ground;

He bids the clouds with plenteous rain

Refresh the thirsty earth again.

’Tis to His care we owe our breath,

And all our near escapes with death;

Safety and health to God belong;

He heals the weak, and guards the strong.

He makes the saint and sinner prove

The common blessings of His love;

But the wide difference that remains,

Is endless joy, or endless pains.

The Lord, that bruised the serpent’s head,

On all the serpent’s seed shall tread;

The stubborn sinner’s hope confound,

And smite him with a lasting wound.

But His right hand His saints shall raise

From the deep earth, or deeper seas,

And bring them to His courts above;

There shall they taste His special love.

Words: Isaac Watts (1674-1748)
Tune: Acle, Briston MS