See the corn again in ear!
How the fields and valleys smile,
Harvest now is drawing near,
To repay the farmer’s toil,
Should the Lord secure the crop,
It will give us needful food;
In His mercy is our hope,
We have sinned, but He is good.
Let the praise be all the Lord’s,
As the benefit is ours,
He, in seasons, still affords
Kindly heat and gentle showers:
By His care the produce thrives
Waving o’er the furrowed lands;
And when harvest time arrives,
Ready for the reaper stands.
Thus in barren hearts He sows,
Precious seeds of heavenly joy;
Sin and hell in vain oppose,
None can grace’s crop destroy:
Threatened oft yet still it blooms,
After many changes past,
Death the reaper, when he comes,
Finds it fully ripe at last.