Ho Ye Idlers Standing In The Busy Marts
Ho! ye idlers, standing in the busy marts,
Hear the call for reapers, who will volunteer?
Fields are waving, harvest days are passing by,
And the skies are bright and clear.
Loud comes ringing from the reapers in the field,
Songs of joy and gladness as they bind their sheaves;
Times goes by, and so abundant is the yield,
Dare you go to judgment bearing naught but leaves?
Go ye forth rejoicing, gather with the reapers,
Gather from the hill and plain;
They are singing songs of joy and gladness,
As they bind the golden grain.
Loud and long the voice of love is pleading,
While the Spirit still is interceding;
Hasten to the harvest-field away, away!
Who will work today?
Who’ll work today?
Who will go and help to gather in the grain,
Who will glean the bright sheaves from the fields of sin?
Who will share the glory of eternal rest,
When the golden harvest all is gathered in?
Lift your eyes and look upon the waving fields,
Hear the Master calling, “Who will work today?”
In the byways and the hedges all about
Grain is falling to decay.
Grasp your sickle, haste to join the busy throng;
Wide and ripe the harvest,-few the reapers there;
Ev’ry sheaf you gather will become a star
For the crown of glory you at last shall wear. [Refrain]