[Written for the Sentinel]

Angel Reapers

O Lord of harvest, when the seedIs swaying into ripened grain,Take from its side the stubborn weed,—The sin, disease, and pain;And on the happy harvest morn,When reapers greet the quiet day,Let glory gild the golden cornWith Love's celestial ray.

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.