The Summer Harvest Spreads the Field

The sum­mer har­vest spreads the field

Mark—how the whit­en­ing hills art turned!

Behold them to the reap­ers yield—

The wheat is saved—the tares are burned.

Thus the great Judge with glo­ry crowned

Descends to reap the rip­ened earth!

Angelic guards at­tend Him down

The same who sang His hum­ble birth.

In sounds of glory hear Him speak

“Go search around the flam­ing world;

Haste—call my saints to rise

and take

The seats from which their foes were hurled.

Go

burn the chaff in end­less fire

In flames un­quenched

con­sume each tare;

Sinners must feel My ho­ly ire

And sink in guilt—to deep des­pair.

Thus ends the har­vest of the earth—

Angels ob­ey the aw­ful voice;

They save the wheat

they burn the chaff;

All Heav’n ap­proves the sov­er­eign choice.