1 Fields of gold are glowing
’Neath the autumn rays,
Now the springtide sowing,
All its fruit displays;
Every hill rejoices,
Fields with gladness ring,
Lifting up their voices,
Now the valleys sing,
Lifting up their voices,
Now the valleys sing.

2 In the dark earth sleeping,
Long the seed hath lain;
Joyful now the reaping,
Fair the garnered grain.
As the gold we gather
Of Thine harvest gift,
Now to Thee, our Father,
Thankful hearts we lift;
Now to Thee, our Father,
Thankful hearts we lift.

3 We are Thine own sowing,
Dear, O Lord, to Thee;
For Thine harvest growing,
We would fruitful be.
When, their bright sheaves bearing,
Angel reapers come;
We with them be sharing,
In Thy Harvest Home;
We with them be sharing,
In Thy Harvest Home.

4 To Thee, Lord of Heaven,
Thee, O bounteous King,
Gifts Thy love hath given,
We would gladly bring.
Thou of all art giver,
Father, Spirit, Son,
Thine the praise forever,
Blessèd Three in One;
Thine the praise forever,
Blessèd Three in One.