Summer ended, harvest o'er,
Lord, to Thee our [song]1 we pour,
For the [valley's]2 [golden yield]3,
For the fruits of tree and field;

For the promise ever sure
That while heaven and earth endure
Seed-time, harvest, cold and heat
Shall their yearly round complete;

For the care, which while we slept,
Watch o'er field and furrow kept,
Watch o'er all the buried grain,
Soon to burst to life again.

When the reaping angels bring, 
Tares and wheat before the King,
Jesus! may we gathered be
In the heavenly barn to Thee.

Then the angel cry shall sound:
Praise the Lamb: the lost are found!
And the answering song shall be: 
Alleluia, praise to Thee!

Praise to Thee! the toil is o'er;
Blight and curse shall be no more;
Lo! the mighty work is done:
Glory to the Three in One!