Now every
wood grows pale and wan
Now every wood grows pale and wan
and voice of
bird soon parting,
the stork has crossed the shore and gone –
pursued by swallows darting.
Where
fields but recently like gold
with ears
of corn were swaying,
is only
soil that’s black and cold
with
stubble old and greying.
But
threshing floor and barn are now
where we
God’s gifts have treasured,
where
active toil and wealth will grow
from stooks
in bushels measured.
And he who
out of earthly clay
let golden
corn be scaling
is with us
with his word alway,
the word
that’s never-failing.
Him do we
thank with songs of praise
for all
that he’s been giving:
for summer
cornfields all ablaze,
his word,
and life for living!
Then over
us throughout the year
he lets his
peace shine gently,
and, winter
over, spring is here
with
summer, corn and plenty.
And when at
last at his command
from earth
we must be wending,
with God in
paradise we’ll stand
in summer
never-ending.
Then we
shall reap as birds do now
though
theirs was not the sowing,
then we
shall ne’er remember how
earth’s
toil and strife kept growing.
For harvest
there and harvest here
to God all
praise and glory,
who by our
Lord, Christ Jesus dear
would be
our Father surely.
May then
his mighty spirit move
and us, in
days fast waning,
raise up
through faith and hope and love
till paradise
attaining!
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