Harvest

© 2007 by Dennis L. Harrison

The days are getting shorter,

     And the morning’s cooler now.

I can hear the thunder,

     And I can see the clouds afar-

Signs that wintertime

     Is getting near.

Will you help me with the harvest?

     Time is growing short.

The field is white for the harvest.

     And the laborers are few.

Spring’s the time for planting.

     Summer’s past, can’t water now.

Grab your rake and sickle,

     Basket, and your pruning shears.

Meet the Lord of harvest in His field.

     And He said,

Get your horse and wagon;

     You can use my thrashing floor.

Gather, glean, and garner;

     It’ll be too late tomorrow.

Now harvest the first fruits of My field.

You know to everything, there is a season,

     And there is a time to reap.

Can’t you hear His voice?

     The Master’s calling,

There is no more time to sleep.

“Will you help Me with the harvest?

     Time is growing short.

The field is white for the harvest.

     And the laborers are few.”

And the laborers are few.

     And the laborers are few.

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