Harvest Day Some fields have them lined in pretty rows Planted will military precision Some in random plots as if the sower Was racked with terrible indecision Some are small fields without a wall For a family to plant with tears Some are massive, old, and filled From many plantings through the years. But from these gardens and fields will stream The redeemed who will rise again When the Son comes back in glory and lays waste To the last shadows of sorrow, death, and sin.