Upon Israel's Mountain Heights

Go thrust in the sickle for the harvest is ripe
Gather the clusters from darkness to light
Tary not brother of mine
reap the fruit of the vine
For the plant of renown of the promise
Has arose in its glory
Proving God's light no story
And mystery a myth 'neath its branches of light

Come, come you are welcome to abide and obey
What a spirit of God through His wise rulers say
In His power and His might
Through his testimony light
He is speaking to His flock upon Israel's mountain height

Come out of here my people whose destruction is sure
While vials of wrath of God's avenging angels pour
Tary not brother of mine
Reap the fruit of the vine
When the voice with the same familiar Spirit
Bids you as brother's kind
The sheaves of wheat to bind
In one body Spirit, Faith and one Baptism.