’Tis the Harvest Time

’Tis the har­vest time

’tis the har­vest time

To the fields I must away;

For the Mas­ter now is call­ing me

To go and work to­day.

Gleaning on the hill­side

hill­side

Gleaning on the plain

Working for the Mas­ter

’Mong the golden grain.

’Tis the har­vest time

’tis the har­vest time

Oh! who will go along?

See the fields for har­vest now are white;

I hear the reap­er’s song.

’Tis the har­vest time

’tis the har­vest time

There is work for all to­day;

If you cannot be a reap­er

then

Help bear the sheaves away.