O'er The Harvest Reaped Or Lost

O’er the harvest reaped or lost Falls the eve; our tasks are over: Purpose crowned or purpose crossed None may mar and now recover. Now, O merciful and just, Trembling lay we down the trust; Slender fruit of thriftless day, Father, at Thy feet we lay.

Yea, but Thou, O Judge and Lord, Yea, but Thou, O strong and holy, Take, and in Thy bosom stored, By Thy pure hands changing wholly, Turn to gold the things of naught, Failing deed and failing thought; Love, how faint, yet love, we give; Thou within Thee make it live.

Gracious task our heart shall bear Now, for sweeter call has found us: Airs of home and days that were Wind re-woven chains around us; By the hearthstone, whence we came, Love shall trim her gentle flame, Kindling new from undefiled Ancient altars of the child.

Brothers, whom the wider life Summons to a man’s endeavour, Bear our blessing to the strife, Comrades once and comrades ever: Yours and ours, one saving star, Here and on your fields afar, Lightens from beside the throne, Where the one Lord makes us one.