The Harvest Field by Libbie Thurston

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 11, 1875

The Harvest Field.

By Libbie Thurston

“Ho! reapers of life's harvest Why stand with rusted blade Until the night draws round thee, And day begins to fade? Why stand ye idle, waiting, For reapers more to come? The golden morn is passing, Why stand ye idle, dumb?”

WHILE thinking upon the foregoing lines I was forcibly impressed with the earnest appeal to the reapers in the harvest of the Lord. In these times, when there is so much to be done and so little time to labor, how important that we who profess to believe we are living on the last crumbling verge of time be awake to duty! We see thousands all around us unconscious of the closing events of time. But here we stand, with rusted blade, made such by idleness and disuse. Why stand we dumb and idle? Surely we do not believe what we profess, or we are of all beings most inconsistent. Just think! The night coming on! The closing hours of probation almost passed! The time for labor almost over, and we in this state of idleness and stupidity! Would I had an angel’s voice, to raise to all the warning note, and call each and every laborer to his post.

Once there was not so plain a path, and so loud a call for every one to labor as now, since the perfection of organization in the Tract & Missionary Society. But now, what excuse

can we have in the soon-coming day for having done nothing? With sickles of truth placed in our hands and with instructions how to use them, what can we say when in our final account no sheaves appear for the Master as the fruit of our efforts?

The times demand earnest, untiring effort, the cause we love demands it, and more than all, the love we ought to bear our dear Saviour demands it. Shall we be faithful laborers, and by-and-by enter into the joy of our Lord? The more I think of it, the more I see the hand of the Lord in the working of the Tract and Missionary Society.

Brethren and sisters, you have but to become acquainted with it to love it. I would not be deprived of what I know of its workings for very much. The last N. Y. State meeting was a source of much good to all present; and I would earnestly entreat every one to make a great effort to attend one such meeting; and especially would I exhort any who have not confidence in this work, and its officers to learn the truth in these matters.

Brethren and sisters, upon us is laid the solemn duty of trying to save souls. The living messengers are not enough in numbers or strength to do this work; and now, the question for us to answer is, Will we work or die? We must do one. Do we not desire life? Yea, are we not willing to accept the labor, cares, privations, and tribulations, here and enjoy “resting by-and-by.” Then

“Thrust in your sharpened sickles, And gather in the grain; The night is fast approaching, And soon will come again. The master calls for reapers And shall he call in vain? Shall sheaves lie there ungathered, And waste, upon the plain?”

LIBBIE THURSTON.

Randolph, N. Y.