1 See how brown autumn spreads the field;
Mark how the whit'ning hills are turn'd;
Behold them to the reapers yield,
The wheat is sav'd, the tares are burn'd.

2 Thus the great Judge with glory crown'd,
Descends to reap the ripen'd earth;
Angelic guards attend him down,
The same who sang his humble birth.

3 In sounds of glory, hear him speak;
"Go search around the flaming world,
Haste, call my saints, to rise and take
The seats from which their foes were hurl'd.

4 "Go burn the chaff in endless fire,
In flames unquench'd consume each tare;
Sinners must feel my holy ire,
And sink in guilt to deep despair."

5 Thus ends the harvest of the earth,
Angels obey the awful voice:
They save the wheat and burn the chaff,
All heav'n approves the sov'reign choice.