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Hymn 365

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1 Ho! reapers of life's harvest,
Why stand with rusted blade
Until the night draws round you,
And day begins to fade?
Why stand ye idle,waiting
For reapers more to come?
The golden morn is passing;
Why sit ye idle, dumb [mute]?
2 Thrust in your sharpened sickle
And gather in the grain:
The night is fast approaching
And soon will come again.
Thy Master calls for reapers,
And shall he call in vain?
Shall sheaves lie there ungathered
And waste upon the plain?
3 Come down from hill and mountain
In morning's ruddy glow,
Nor wait until the dial
Points to the noon below;
And come with the strong sinew,
Nor faint in heat or cold;
And pause not till the evening
Draws round its wealth of gold.

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Last Updated on : Sunday, November 30, 2014