The earth, O Lord, is one wide field
Of all Thy chosen seed;
The crop prepared its fruit to yield;
The laborers are few indeed.

We therefore come before Thee now
With fasting, and with prayer,
Beseeching of Thy love that Thou
Wouldst send more laborers there.

Not for our land alone we pray,
Though that above the rest;
The realms and islands far away,
O let them all be blest.

Endue the bishops of Thy flock
With wisdom and with grace,
Against false doctrine, like a rock,
To set the heart and face.

To all Thy priests Thy truth reveal,
And make Thy judgments clear;
Make Thou Thy deacons full of zeal,
And humble, and sincere.

And give their flocks a lowly mind
To hear and to obey;
That each and all may mercy find
At Thine appearing day.

In the harvest field there is work to do,
For the grain is ripe, and the reapers few;
And the Master’s voice bids the workers true
Heed the call that He gives today.

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Labor on, labor on,
Keep the bright reward in view,
For the Master has said
He will strength renew;
Labor on till the close of day.

Crowd the garner well with its sheaves all bright,
Let the song be glad, and the heart be light,
Fill the precious hours ere the shades of night
Take the place of the golden day.

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In the gleaner’s path may be rich reward,
Tho’ the time seems long, and the labor hard;
For the Master’s joy, with His chosen shared,
Drives the gloom from the darkest day.

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Lo! the Harvest Home in the realms above
Shall be gained by each who has toiled and strove,
When the Master’s voice, in His words of love,
Calls away to eternal day.

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Lo! the golden fields are smiling,
Wherefore idle shouldst thou be?
Great the harvest, few the workers,
And the Lord hath need of thee.
Go and work, the time is waning,
Let thy earnest heart reply
To the call so oft repeated,
“Blessèd Master, here am I.”

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Hark! the song, the song of busy workers,
In the fields so fair to see;
Go and fill thy place among them,
For the Lord hath need of thee.

Take the balm of consolation
That so oft has cheered thy heart;
Let some weary brother toiler,
In thy comfort share a part.
Go and lift the heavy burden,
He has struggled long to bear,
Go, and kneeling down beside him,
Blend thy faith with his in prayer.

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Go and gather souls for Jesus;
Precious souls thy love may win;
Lead them to the door of mercy;
Tell them how to enter in.
Go and gather souls for Jesus;
Work while strength and breath remain;
What are years of constant labor
To the joy thou yet shalt gain?

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Go, then, work, the Master calleth;
Go, no longer idle be;
Waste no more thy precious moments,
For the Lord hath need of Thee.
Once He gave His life thy ransom,
That thy soul with Him might live;
Now the service He demandeth
Can thy heart refuse to give?

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Lord of the living harvest
That whitens o’er the plain,
Where angels soon shall gather
Their sheaves of golden grain,
Accept these hands to labor,
These hearts to trust and love,
And deign with them to hasten
Thy kingdom from above.

As laborers in Thy vineyard,
Lord, send them out to be
Content to bear the burden
Of weary days for Thee.
To ask no other wages
When Thou shalt call them home
But to have shared the travail
Which makes Thy kingdom come.

Be with them, God the Father;
Be with them, God the Son;
And God the Holy Spirit,
Most blessèd Three in One.
Make them Thy faithful servants
Thee rightly to adore
And fill them with Thy fullness
Both now and evermore.

Not by Thy mighty hand,
Thy wondrous works alone,
But by the marvels of Thy Word,
Thy glory, Lord, is known.

Forth from the eternal gates,
Thine everlasting home,
To sow the seed of truth alone,
Thou didst vouchsafe to come.

And still from age to age,
Thou, gracious Lord, hast been
The Bearer forth of goodly seed,
The Sower still unseen.

And Thou wilt come again,
And Heav’n beneath Thee bow,
To reap the harvest Thou hast sown,
Sower and Reaper Thou.

Watch, Lord, Thy harvest field,
With Thine unsleeping eye,
The children of the kingdom keep
To Thy epiphany!

That, when in Thy great day
The tares shall severed be,
We may be surely gathered in
With all Thy saints to Thee.

O Christ, forget not them who stand
Thy vanguard in the distant land,
In flood, in flame, in dark, in dread,
Sustain, we pray, each lifted head.

Thine is the work they strive to do,
Their foes so many, they so few,
Be with Thine own, Thy loved, who stand,
Christ’s vanguard, in the storm swept land.

O where are the reapers that garner in
The sheaves of the good from the fields of sin?
With sickles of truth must the work be done,
And no one may rest till the “harvest home.”

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Where are the reapers? O who will come
And share in the glory of the “harvest home”?
O who will help us to garner in
The sheaves of good from the fields of sin?

Go out in the byways and search them all;
The wheat may be there but the weeds are tall;
Then search in the highway, and pass none by;
But gather them all for the home on high.

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The fields are all ripening, and far and wide
The world now is waiting the harvest tide:
But reapers are few, and the work is great,
And much will be lost should the harvest wait.

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So come with your sickles, ye sons of men,
And gather together the golden grain;
Toil on till the Lord of the harvest come,
Then share ye His joy in the “harvest home.”

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Sing to the Lord of harvest,
Sing songs of love and praise;
With joyful hearts and voices
Your alleluias raise.
By Him the rolling seasons
In fruitful order move;
Sing to the Lord of harvest,
A joyous song of love.

By Him the clouds drop fatness,
The deserts bloom and spring,
The hills leap up in gladness,
The valleys laugh and sing.
He filleth with His fullness
All things with large increase,
He crowns the year with goodness,
With plenty and with peace.

Bring to His sacred altar
The gifts His goodness gave,
The golden sheaves of harvest,
The souls He died to save.
Your hearts lay down before Him
When at His feet you fall,
And with your lives adore Him,
Who gave His life for all.

To God the gracious Father,
Who made us “very good,”
To Christ, who, when we wandered,
Restored us with His blood,
And to the Holy Spirit,
Who doth upon us pour
His blessèd dews and sunshine,
Be praise forevermore!

Spread, O spread, thou mighty Word,
Spread the kingdom of the Lord,
Wheresoe’er His breath has given,
Life to beings meant for Heaven.

Tell them how the Father’s will
Made the world, and keeps it still,
How He sent His Son to save
All who help and comfort crave.

Tell of our Redeemer’s love,
Who forever doth remove
By His holy sacrifice
All the guilt that on us lies.

Tell them of the Spirit given
Now to guide us up to heaven,
Strong and holy, just and true,
Working both to will and do.

Word of life, most pure and strong,
Lo! for Thee the nations long,
Spread, till from its dreary night
All the world awakes to light.

Up! the ripening fields ye see,
Mighty shall the harvest be;
But the reapers still are few,
Great the work they have to do.

Lord of harvest, let there be
Joy and strength to work for Thee,
Till the nations, far and near,
See Thy light, and learn Thy fear.

There’s a garden whose walk we never have known;
There’s a light within us that has never been shown,

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Lord let us all enter this radiant place,
Holy realm filled with Your love, Your beauty, and grace.

In this garden is fruit whose harvest is due,
But the harvest is great and the laborers few.

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We are one with Your Love in Your garden so free;
We all now take Your hand and know oneness with Thee.

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Up and onward, Christian workers,
Life is fleeting, do not stray;
Great the harvest, few the toilers,
Up and onward, haste away!

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Haste away, then, Christian workers,
Hear the deep, despairing call;
Go and rescue those that perish,
Lend a helping hand to all.

Where the reapers bear their burdens
In the toil and heat of day,
Where the golden sheaves are waving,
Up and onward, haste away!

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Where the conflict fiercely rages
On the battlefield today,
With our banner, shield and buckler,
Up and onward, haste away!

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Consecrated to the service
Of our Savior and our Lord;
Ever faithful, true and earnest,
We shall gain the great reward.

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Hark! I hear a sound from o’er the water,
’Tis the cry of anguish and despair;
’Tis the cry of precious souls in darkness,
While waiting for the light of Jesus, there;
Hear the idle laborers near us saying,
“Master what wilt Thou have me to do?”
The harvest now is great, oh! haste, my brother,
The reapers few.

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Who will go? Who will go?
To the ends of the earth,
Hast thou a passion for the lost?
Dost thou realize what a soul is worth?
Who will go? Who will go?
Tell of Jesus’ death upon the tree?
Oh! who will answer quickly,
“Here am I, O Lord, send me”?

Will you go and tell them of a Savior?
Tell them how He suffered on the tree?
Will you give your very life to save them?
And tell them Jesus came to set them free?
Will you take the way, endure the suffering?
Finding in the cross your only rest?
For suffering here with Jesus brings the glory,
His ways are best.

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We will follow, we will follow Jesus,
Willingly and gladly we’ll obey,
He will never leave us nor forsake us,
He is our Friend, our Comforter and Stay.
Though He lead us o’er the briny ocean,
Though He lead us o’er the sandy plain,
We still will trust in Jesus Christ our Savior,
Oh! praise His Name.

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After we’ve received the Spirit’s fullness,
Filling all our hearts with love divine,
We’re to witness to the blessèd Gospel,
In every nation, country, land and clime,
When we give the Gospel as a witness
Unto every people far and near,
With lightning flash, we’ll see in clouds of glory
The King appear.

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