Planted by-y 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 sanc-ti-fied

Co-ome harvest time



Come harvest time

What thanksgiving we will show

When the Plowman bri-ings freedom

From the earth here below

Come harvest time

Oh what jo-oy will be known

When He gathers the sou-ouls

Of the seeds He ha-as sown



So when doubt dries the land

Or the cold war wi-inds blow

When the floods of indiff'ence rise

Oh the roots that faith grew

Will kee-eep us strong

'Til our last sunset leaves the sky

Come harvest time



Come harvest time

What thanksgiving we will show

When the Plowman bri-ings freedom

From the earth here below

Come harvest time

Oh what jo-oy will be known

When He gathers the sou-ouls

Of the seeds He has sown