Golden Fields of Grace

In the golden fields where the wheat grows low Beneath the white and in the sky the sunbeams
All glow Farmers toil with their gentle earnest pace
Their hearts are full of a simple, wholesome grace
By the cool of dawn, prayers ascend above Thanking the Lord for His boundless love

In glass-type family meals to pray Bless the Lamb that feeds them every day
Oh, the prairie winds whisper God's own voice In the rustling grain we all rejoice
Underneath the sun's warm embrace We find our strength within these golden fields of grace
Even in fall, the shadows stretch out long The prairie's heart beats to an old sweet song

By the fire's glow, the stories are told with cheer Of faith and hope that will cast out every fear
Oh, the prairie winds whisper God's own voice
In the rustling grain we all rejoice So we tread these fields where the good Lord lays
Finding our peace in His wondrous ways In the dance of the wheat, in the winds of trace Our souls are home in These fields of grace

Oh, the prairie winds whisper God's own voice In the rustling grain we all rejoice
Underneath the sun's warm embrace We find our strength within these golden fields of grace
Oh, the Sunday's ring with hymns and sweet praise As the steeple-bells call hearts ablaze
In His Word we find our resting place Guided by His Spirit we run the race

And by the cool of dawn, prayers ascend above Thanking the Lord for His boundless love
Hands clasped, tied of family, kneels to pray They bless the land that feeds them every day
In His Word we find our resting place Guided by His Spirit we run the race
And by the cool of dawn, prayers ascend above Thanking the Lord for His boundless love