158. Hasten On, Glad Day.

The world’s glorious harvest is fast drawing on,
The Master is calling his reapers to come;
The grain bright and golden, in fields far and near,
Is ripe for the garner when he shall appear.

* CHORUS
Hasten on glad day, Bear the sheaves. Away;
(Hasten on, angel reapers, come, glad day,
Bear the sheaves to the garner, far away;)
Hasten on, glad day, Bear us .. home.
(Hasten on, angel reapers, come, glad day,
Bring the “harvest home.” *

That morn everlasting, that day free from tears,
Is swiftly approaching as on roll the years;
The wheat, rudely scattered by sin’s cruel blast,
Then hasten to gather e’er autumn be past.

O sweet is the labor that floweth from love,
A stream never failing, whose Fount is above;
“Tis love that invites us, ‘tis love points the field,
‘Tis love wields the sickle, and wondrous the yield.