Look, the harvest field is teeming

Look, the harvest field is teeming
With the rich and ripened grain;
Wide it spreads before us,
Bright the sky is o’er us;
In the sunlight, golden gleaming,
Heaving like the restless main,
“Reapers are needed,”
Resounds o’er hill and plain.

In the markets and the byways,
Whiling precious hours away,
Many stand complaining,
Idle still remaining,
Loit’ring in the dusty highways,
Hearing not the Master say:
“Reapers are needed,
O who will work today?”

Hear ye not the faithful singing
Of the labor and the yield?
Rouse ye, then, O sleepers,
Join the happy reapers;
To the wind your sorrows flinging,
Patiently the sickle wield:
“Reapers are needed,
Awake, and to the field!”

Chorus
Rouse ye, then, and to the fields away,
Go labor for the Master while you may;
Lo!  He is calling,
Night is falling,
Hasten to obey,
For reapers are needed today.
     Chas. H. Gabriel