Lord of the har­vest! it is right and meet
That we should lay our first-fruits at Thy feet
With joy­ful Al­le­lu­ia.

Sweet is the soul’s thanks­giv­ing af­ter pray­er;
Sweet is the wor­ship that with Heav’n we share,
Who sing the Al­le­lu­ia!

Lowly we prayed, and Thou didst hear on high—
Didst lift our hearts and change our sup­pli­ant cry
To fest­al Al­le­lu­ia.

So sing we now in tune with that great song,
That all the age of ages shall pro­long,
The end­less Al­le­lu­ia.

To Thee, O Lord of Har­vest, who hast heard,
And to Thy white robed reap­ers giv’n the word,
We sing our Al­le­lu­ia.

O Christ, who in the wide world’s ghost­ly sea
Hast bid the net be cast anew, to Thee
We sing our Al­le­lu­ia.

To Thee, eter­nal Spir­it, who again
Hast moved with life upon the slum­ber­ous main,
We sing our Al­le­lu­ia.

Yea, West and East the com­pa­nies go forth;
We come! is sound­ing to the South and North;
To God sing Al­le­lu­ia.

The fish­er­men of Je­sus far away
Seek in new wa­ters an im­mor­tal prey;
To Christ the Al­le­lu­ia.

The Holy Dove is brood­ing o’er the deep,
And care­less hearts are wak­ing out of sleep;
To Him sing Al­le­lu­ia.

Yea, for sweet hope new-born—blest work be­gun—
Sing Al­le­lu­ia to the Three in One,
Adoring Al­le­lu­ia.

Glory to God! the Church in pa­tience cries;
Glory to God! the Church at rest re­plies,
With end­less Al­le­lu­ia.