Classic Poem

Oh, ye who are reaping in life's golden grain,
Where shadows of Autumn may fall;
Be patient awhile, till the close of the day,
And work till the Master shall call.
Ring out ... the glad chorus,
Break forth ... into song, ...
The richest of fruitage,
Is gathered while passing along.
The fields are inviting, the harvest is great,
And reapers are wanted today;
Go forth to the labor, although it be late,
Your toil will the Master repay.
Then garner the beautiful sheaves for the Lord,
A soul-cheering harvest begun;
And life everlasting will be your reward,
When life and its labors are done.
Ring out the glad chorus while toiling below,
Break forth into raptures of song, of song,
The richest of fruitage that mortals may know,