Harvest Song

By Parley P. Pratt

The Gentiles oppressed us, the heathens with rage

Combined all their forces our hosts to engage.

They plundered and drove us full many a day;

They killed the chief shepherd, the sheep went away.

Afar in the desert and mountains to roam,

Without any harvest, without any home.

There hungry and thirsty and weary and worn,

They seemed quite forsaken, and left for to mourn.

But lo! in the mountains new sheepfolds appear!

And a harvest of plenty, our spirits to cheer.

This beautiful vale is a refuge from wo,

A retreat for the Saints, while the scourges o’erflow.

Chorus

Let us join in the dance, let us join in the song.

To thee, O Jehovah, the praises belong.

All honor, all glory, we render to thee;

Thy cause is triumphant, thy people are free.

This has been taken from the more folksy version found in the Elnathan Eldredge Journal, Church Archives, with several corrections as found in the more formal, published version in Parley P. Pratt to Orson Pratt, 5 September 1848, Millennial Star, 15 Jan. 1849, p. 23. For readability, spelling and capitalization have been corrected and punctuation supplied.