“Who will go and work to-day?
Fields are white, and harvests waiting,
Who will bear the sheaves away?”
Loud and long the Master calleth,
Rich reward he offers free;
Who will answer, gladly saying,
“Here am I, send me, send me?”
Let none hear you idly saying,
“There is nothing I can do,”
While the souls of men are dying,
And the Master calls for you:
Take the task he gives you gladly;
Let his work your pleasure be;
Answer quickly when he calleth
“Here am I, send me, send me.”
Daniel March
Lord, thy word abideth,
And our footsteps guideth;
Who its truth believeth,
Light and joy receiveth.
When our foes are near us,
Then thy word doth cheer us;
Word of consolation,
Message of salvation.
When the storms are o’er us,
And dark clouds before us,
Then its light directeth,
And our way protecteth.
Word of mercy, giving
Succor to the living;
Word of life, supplying
Comfort to the dying!
Oh, that we, discerning
Its most holy learning,
Lord! may love and fear thee,
Evermore be near thee.
Sir H. W. Baker
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