When in His might the Lord arose to set us free,
And Zion was restored from her captivity,
In transports then of joy and mirth
We praised the Lord of all the earth.

The nations saw with fear the might of God displayed,
When He at last drew near to give His people aid;
Great things for us the Lord has wrought,
And gladness to our hearts has brought.

Again refresh us, Lord, with Thy reviving love,
And be Thy blessing poured in mercy from above;
By grace revive our hearts again,
As streams refreshed by copious rain.

Although with bitter tears the sower bears his seed,
When harvest time appears he shall be glad indeed;
For they that in the sowing weep
Shall yet in joy and gladness reap.

When Zion in her low estate
Was brought from bondage by the Lord,
In ecstasy we sang for joy,
By grace and wondrous love restored.

The Lord, in greatly blessing us,
Before the world His power displays;
Yea, great things God has done for us
And filled our hearts with joy and praise.

O Lord, refresh us by Thy grace,
Revive and quicken all our powers,
As failing streams are made to flow,
Replenished by abundant showers.

The sower, bearing precious seed,
May weep as in his toil he grieves,
But he shall come again with joy
In harvest time with golden sheaves.

I feel like singing all the time,
My tears are wiped away;
For Jesus is a friend of mine,
I’ll serve Him every day.

Refrain

I’m singing, singing,
Singing all the time;
Singing, singing,
Singing all the time.

When on the cross my Lord I saw,
Nailed there by sins of mine;
Fast fell the burning tears; but now,
I’m singing all the time.

Refrain

When fierce temptations try my heart,
I sing, Jesus is mine;
And so, though tears at times may start,
I’m singing all the time.

Refrain

The wondrous story of the Lamb,
Tell with that voice of thine,
Till others, with the glad new song
Go singing all the time.

Refrain

Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,
Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;
Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Refrain

Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves,
Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves,

Sowing in the sunshine, sowing in the shadows,
Fearing neither clouds nor winter’s chilling breeze;
By and by the harvest, and the labor ended,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Refrain

Going forth with weeping, sowing for the Master,
Though the loss sustained our spirit often grieves;
When our weeping’s over, He will bid us welcome,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Refrain

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.

Refrain

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.

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.

Refrain

O thou, whom thy Lord is sending,
Gather now the sheaves of gold;
Heav’nward then at evening wending,
Thou shalt come with joy untold.

Refrain

He that goeth forth with weeping,
Bearing precious seed in love,
Never tiring, never sleeping,
Findeth mercy from above.

Soft descend the dews of heaven,
Bright the rays celestial shine;
Precious fruits will thus be given
Through an influence all divine.

Sow thy seed; be never weary;
Let no fears thy soul annoy;
Be the prospect ne’er so dreary,
Thou shalt reap the fruits of joy.

Lo! the scene of verdure brightening,
See the rising grain appear:
Look again; the fields are whitening,
For the harvest time is near.

Sow in the morn thy seed,
At eve hold not thy hand;
To doubt and fear give thou no heed,
Broadcast it o’er the land.

Thou know’st not which may thrive,
The late or early sown;
God keeps His precious seed alive,
When and wherever thrown.

And duly shall appear,
In verdure, beauty, strength,
The tender blade, the stalk, the ear,
And the full corn at length.

Thou canst not toil in vain;
Cold, heat, and moist, and dry,
Shall foster and mature the grain
For garners in the sky.

Thence, when the glorious end,
The day of God is come,
The angels reapers shall descend,
And Heav’n cry, “Harvest Home.”