The Harvest Time.

The harvest time is over! And across the fertile plain Stand the winrows of the meadows and the stocks of golden grain; And the aching limbs of labor take the rest of happy ease From the scorching suns of noon-day in the shadows of the trees. The harvest time is over! And the husbandman receives For the days of hard endeavor all the wealth of garnered sheaves;' And the land of hill and valley smiles exalt with joys untold Heaping high above the stubbles in the piles of ripened gold! Harvest time! Harvest time! Hours of toil are told; Hill and valley both rejoice With their wealth of gold!

The harvest time is over! After all the years of strife There's a joy for every sorrow and a crown for every life; And the songs of Heaven's angels on the straining soul arise As the weary foot-steps falter on the walks of Paradise. The harvest time is over! All the struggle has surcease! After life, the stars above us! After battle, love and peace! And the glories of achievement that atone for sin and strife Are the sheaves of good we garner as we reap the fields of life! Harvest time! harvest time! Years of struggle gone, Joy shall crown the soul with light In eternal Dawn!