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A Call To Harvest

Up, away to the harvest field,
Gather in the golden yield;
Gird your armor and faithful be,
For the Master calleth thee.

Thrust your sickle in, the harvest time is here,
Labor with your might, the judgment day is near;
Thrust your sickle in, the grain is falling fast,
Haste, ere harvest time is past.

Always take with you faith�s bright shield,
And your sickle bravely wield;
Stand against cunning foes you see,
For the Master calleth thee.

Keep uplifted the word of truth,
Spreading light to hopeful youth;
Bowed to Him must be every knee,
For the Master calleth thee.

Take with you holy peace and love,
Lift despairing souls above;
Toil to make sinful mortals free,
For the Master calleth thee.



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