Work For Time Is Flying


Work, for time is flying,
Work with hearts sincere;
Work, for souls are dying,
Work, for night is near;
In the Master’s vineyard;
Go and work to-day;
Be no useless sluggard
Standing in the way.

In this glorious calling,
Work till day is o’er;
Work till, ev’ning falling,
You can work no more;
Then your labour bringing
To the King of kings,
Borne, with joy and singing,
Home on angels’ wings.

There, where saints adore Him,
Where the ransomed meet,
Joy they show before Him,
Bowing at His feet;
Hear the Master saying,
From His heavenly throne,
When thy toil rewarding,
“Laborer, well done!”