Far and Near the Fields are Teeming
The Harvest Singers

Verse 1:
Far and near the fields are teeming,
With the waves of ripened grain;
Far and near their gold is gleaming
O'er the sunny slope and plain.

Chorus:
Lord of harvest, send forth reapers!
Hear us, Lord, to Thee we cry;
Send them now the sheaves to gather,
Ere the harvest time pass by.

Verse 2:
Send them forth with morn's first beaming,
Send them in the noontide's glare;
When the sun's last rays are gleaming,
Bid them gather everywhere.

Chorus:
Lord of harvest, send forth reapers!
Hear us, Lord, to Thee we cry;
Send them now the sheaves to gather,
Ere the harvest time pass by.

Verse 3:
Thou, whom now the Master calleth,
Rich reward He offers thee;
Who will answer, gladly saying,
'Here am I, send me, send me.'

Chorus:
Lord of harvest, send forth reapers!
Hear us, Lord, to Thee we cry;
Send them now the sheaves to gather,
Ere the harvest time pass by.