Manhattanville College - Tower Yearbook (Purchase, NY)

Page 22 text:

In Exultatione Metens Through fields that grow bright row on row, Exultingly the reapers go; The hands are filled that ne’er have tilled With corn the bright’ning breezes gild. The sowers wrought with earnest thought Nor knew the fruit their toil had brought; ’Mid hopes and fears they sowed in tears, We reap the increase of the years, We reap the increase of the years. From long ago the ground, we know, Made ready for the corn to grow; The cold was strong, the waiting long, Now all the ways are full of song. For thorn and tare and desert bare A gracious harvest ripens there. From harvesting our sheaves we bring; In exultation reaping, sing. Through row on row of grapes aglow Exultingly the gleaners go; And all around the world is crowned And every brow with coolness bound. The soul’s proud wine leaps forth divine Where clustered hopes benignant shine. We richly pour from out our store The wine of gladness o’er and o’er, The wine of gladness o’er and o’er. The vines that are from Canaan far O’ershone by earth’s one Orient Star Now grow with ours in childhood bowers Where we have found the early flowers. From every time and every clime We reap the harvest of their prime. From harvesting our sheaves we bring, In exultation reaping, sing. From trees that cast their shadows vast. Rock-rooted in the silent past: From those that spring, new-blossoming, Where birds of other years may sing, Our eager thought the fruit has brought. The blossom for our garland sought; And some there seem with gold agleam, Like trophies from the land of dream, Like trophies from the land of dream. From row on row that gleam and glow Exultingly the reapers go. Before Thy shrine, 0 Heart Divine, We lay the treasures that are Thine; Thy manifold rich gift we hold Will turn all grayness into gold. To Thee, Our King, our sheaves we bring, In exultation reaping, sing. Page eighteen