The Sable River District Sunday School Convention (Nova Scotia) was comprised of Baptist and Methodist churches in the area who met regularly to discuss and promote Sunday School work.  One such meeting took place at the Little Harbor Methodist Church on January 30, 1914. Thanks to the report of a Dr. Brown, the attendants were transported to Zurich, Switzerland for the evening. I think the reason why I was so struck by these minutes is that for one night, the people in the room, from a small community in rural Nova Scotia, were able to travel across the ocean to Switzerland. Many of these people would likely not have been able to travel out of the province, let alone out of the country! This evening must have been a special treat for all in attendance.

Below the images you will find a transcription of the minutes as well as the lyrics for the song “Far and Near the Fields are Teeming.” Note the different spelling of Zurich in the minutes.

Sable River District Sunday School Convention, 1914 p1

Sable River District Sunday School Convention, 1914 p2



“Next was Dr. Brown’s address: “The Message From Zwrich,” in which he told us of the World Sunday School Convention which met at Zwrich, Switzerland in 1913. We went with him, as it were, across the sea to sunny Europe and followed him to see the many grand and beautiful sights of city, river, lake, and mountain. Then to the Convention itself where we could get, as at no other place, a glimpse of the great extent of Sunday School work. This vision turned our hearts to God in prayer that we might be more efficient in this great work. This address was followed by singing “Far and Near the Fields are Teeming.”

Far and Near the Fields are Teeming:

Far and near the fields are teeming
With the waves of ripened grain;
Far and near their gold is gleaming
O’er the sunny slope and plain.


Lord of harvest, send forth reapers!
Hear us, Lord, to Thee we cry;
Send them now the sheaves to gather
Ere the harvest time pass by.

Send them forth with morn’s first beaming,
Send them in the noontide’s glare;
When the sun’s last rays are gleaming,
Bid them gather everywhere.


O thou, whom thy Lord is sending,
Gather now the sheaves of gold;
Heav’nward then at evening wending,
Thou shalt come with joy untold.