Lo, the Harvest Fields are Waving ON TO THE HARVEST—Lewis E. Jones Lo, the Harvest Fields are Waving 1 Lo, the harvest fields are waving With the golden grain today, Up, ye reapers, take your sickles, And the Master’s call obey. Forth into the rip’ning harvest At the tender dawn of light, Lest the golden grain be wasted, For the world’s broad fields are white, Chorus “On to the harvest,” the Spirit breathes, Hasten away nor idle be, Amid the fields of ripening grain, On to the harvest, lo,