"Harvest-Home"

" HARVEST-HOME" 

by J. Byington Smith

The " harvest-home " we sing with cheer,
Now that abundance crowns the year;
The God of harvests now we praise,
To him our thanks a tribute raise ;
For he our anxious care relieves
While reapers home come bringing sheaves,
Till filled are cellars, barns, and bin,
With harvests which are gathered in.

The seeds, which were by handfuls sown,
Were into richest harvests grown;
And reapers reaped the golden grain
While binders followed in their train,
And wagons each with heavy load
Were seen along the homeward road.

Of old, the reapers of the grain
Over the fields went not again,
But what was left the gleaners had,
So gleaners were with reapers glad;
And reapers, too, must corners leave,
For gleaners also these receive.

This was not something very rare
Of Boaz' field when Ruth was there,
For reapers oft let handfuls fall,
Nor greedy they to gather all;
And well were still this law in force,
And elsewhere in the reapers' course
The handfuls now were lying round
On purpose that they might be found,
Or other reapers be inclined
E'en sheaves of grain to leave behind.

Then all these fruits and ripened grain,
Which often leaves and chaff remain,
Remind that we should let appear
Not leaves alone, but fruit, each year,
And store the soul and heart and brain
Not just with chaff, but ripened grain.

And as by fruits we each are known,
Sow seeds from which the fruits are grown;
And if not known by dress we wear,
But rather by the sheaves we bear,
Should gather up some sheaves each day,
And waste not precious lives away ;
And be prepared, like shocks of corn,
To hail the resurrection mom,
That when for us the reapers come,
Angels shall shout the " harvest-home."