Long ago to Beth­le­hem,
From afar re­turn­ing,
Came Na­omi, sore be­reaved,
For the home­land yearn­ing.
Ruth, her daugh­ter, clave to her,
Idol gods for­sak­ing;
Lo, she seeks the har­vest field,
As the day is break­ing.

Refrain

See the reap­ers bend­ing low,
See the wheat sheaves lean­ing;
See the Mo­ab­it­ess go,
Gleaning, glean­ing, glean­ing.

Happy Ruth with rea­dy hands,
Gleans along the bor­ders,
Let some hand­fuls fall for her,
Hear the mas­ter’s or­ders.
Sweet, un­self­ish, trust­ful one,
When the sha­dows length­en,
Rich re­ward await­eth thee,
Faith and hope to strength­en.

Refrain

Like this glean­er may we be,
Faithful in our call­ing;
Other hands may bind the sheaves
Where the wheat is fall­ing.
But the glean­ers have their place,
Precious hand­fuls sav­ing,
In the gold­en har­vest fields,
Where the grain is wav­ing.

Refrain