GO GATHER IN THE SHEAVES
By Carrie Butcher
Why sit ye there with idle hands?
O! hie ye now away;
The Master calls, entreats, commands:
“Go work for me to-day!” The harvest field of many a heart
Stands ready, waiting you;
And God will show you where to start,
And how your work to do. O bear in mind that while ye wait,
Away life's sands will run;
And by and by ’twill be too late,
The harvest will be done. If ye neglect your part to do,
Another will step in,
And reap the sheaves God means for you,
And thus your wages win. If comes a whisper, soft and low,
“There’s nothing you can do!”
O heed it not, but surely know
Temptation trieth you; For unto every child of God
Some special task is given;
And they must work who hope to wear
A starry crown in heaven. Flee often to the “secret place,”
And gather strength in prayer;
For Satan dare not Jesus face,
He’ll not molest you there. Time hurries by on rapid wing;
O toiler, do your best;
And when your work is ended, know
That God shall give you rest. This world's a grand old harvest field,
And precious souls the sheaves;
And we must toil, nor be content
With only “withered leaves.”