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.