Harvest Home

1THOUGH in the outward church below,
The wheat and tares together grow;
Jesus ere long will weed the crop,
And pluck the tares in anger up.
For soon the reaping time will come,
And angels shout the harvest home.

2Will it relieve their horrors there,
To recollect their stations here;
How much they heard, how much they knew,
How much among the wheat they grew?
For soon the reaping time will, &c.

3No! This will aggravate their case,
They perish'd under means of grace,
To them the word of life and faith
Became an instrument of death.
For soon the reaping time will, &c.

4The tares are spared for various ends,
Some for the sake of praying friends;
Others, the Lord, against their will,
Employs, his counsels to fulfill.
For soon the reaping time will, &c.

5But though they grow so tall and strong,
His plan will not require them long;
In harvest, when he saves his own,
The tares shall into hell be thrown.
For soon the reaping time will, &c.

6Oh! Awful thought, and is it so?
Must all mankind the harvest know?
Is every man a wheat or tare?
Me, for that harvest, Lord, prepare.
For soon the reaping time will, &c.