"Et mea messis erit."
Yes, blessed Lord, the harvest shall be Thine,
The seed is scattered, sown indeed with tears:
Thy God for Thee works out Love's whole design,
One day with Him is as a thousand years.
We bless Thee for the patience and the pain
That school our hearts to fellowship with Thee:
The toilsome treading o'er earth's barren plain,
Before Thy harvest our glad eyes shall see.
How beautiful, O Saviour, are Thy feet
Upon the mountains, ere the break of day:
One Spirit are we now with Thee. 'T is meet
Thy Death should mark, for us in Life, Thy way.
Behold the Sower who went forth to sow;
Whose path began, and issued too, in prayer.
The Heaven of heavens - opened through His woe -
Pours forth His glory, tells it everywhere.
The Husbandman hath patience long, till He
Receive the early and the latter rain.
White, wondrous, golden, shall the harvest be,
When Christ appears, when God's own Son shall reign.
Now may the God of Hope, thus still we pray,
Fill us, believing, with all joy and peace;
Thine, Lord, by right, is universal sway,
No end shall be to Thy blest rule's increase.
For God, Thy God, builds by supreme design,
His wisdom's "day" is as earth's thousand years:
Well is it said "The harvest shall be mine,"
They reap, with joyful song, who sow in tears.
In yonder heavens, ever at Thy side,
With Thee, Lord, in Thy glory, on Thy throne,
Shall be Thy own companion meet, Thy bride,
Won when Thou wert on earth indeed "alone."
Thine is the patience, Thine the power, the peace
Whereby we taste of fellowship with Thee,
A little while, and labour here shall cease
And evermore Thy harvest we shall see. H. K. B. E.