The summer harvest spreads the field

Verse 1

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.

Verse 2

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.

Verse 3

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.

Verse 4

"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."

Verse 5

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.