O where are the reapers that garner in
The grains of the wheat from the tares of sin?
With sickles of truth must the work be done,
And no one may rest till the harvest home.
CHORUS
Few are the reapers; Lord, we will join
And share in the work of the harvest time.
O who will not help to garner in
The grains of wheat from the tares of sin.
Go out in the byways and search them all
The wheat may be there though the weeds are tall;
Then search in the highway and pass none by,
But gather from all for the calling high.
The fields are all ripening, and far and wide
The world now is waiting the harvest tide;
But reapers are few and the work is great;
The Master calls and we must not wait.
So come with your sickles, ye sons of God,
And let not the wheat underfoot be trod.
Work on till the Lord shall say you well done!
Then share ye his joy in the harvest home.