Planted by God in a field without worth
We are but seeds in His eyes
So He nurtures with grace
And His hands work the earth
That His fruit may be sanctified
Come harvest time
Come harvest time
What thanksgiving we will show
When the Plowman brings freedom
From the earth here below
Come harvest time
Oh what joy will be known
When He gathers the souls
Of the seeds He has sewn
So when doubt dries the land
Or the cold war winds blow
When the floods of indifference rise
Oh the roots that faith grew
Will keep us strong
'Til our last sunset leaves the sky
Come harvest time
