Number: 366
English: 
Title: The Fields are White, Harvest Time is Near
Name: 
Words: Sam Jones
Music: 
Copyright: 
Meter: 
Form: 

¤The fields ¤are white and har¤vest time is near,
When you and I be¤fore God must ap¤pear
¤To reap ¤the fruit of seed on earth we’ve sown;
We’ll hear “De¤part ye curs¤ed” or, “Ye bless¤ed come.”

Chorus:
We’re sow¤ing, we’re sow¤ing,
Out on life’s har¤vest field
And eve¤ry lit¤tle seed we sow,
Some fruit will yield.
We’re sow¤ing, we’re sow¤ing,

¤The fields ¤are white, there’s much for all to do;
Great is the need, and la¤b’rers still are few;
¤Think of ¤the pre¤cious souls that care¤less roam,
And of the fate that ’waits them at the har¤vest home.

¤Seeds we ¤have scat¤ter’d, broad¤cast eve¤ry where,
Will rise a¤gain, some kind of fruit they’ll bear.
¤Which shall ¤it be when reap¤ing time has come?
Shall you be cast a¤way as tares, or gar¤ner’d home.