
THINE WAS the harvest,
Thine was the field,
Thine was the pleasure,
When to yield a crop of the heathen—
From nations inclined to idols and man,
And custom so blind—
To enter Thy kingdom, Lord.
Thine was the field,
Thine was the pleasure,
When to yield a crop of the heathen—
From nations inclined to idols and man,
And custom so blind—
To enter Thy kingdom, Lord.