Away to the Field by Charles A. Smith

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Oct 31, 1911

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 38, Nos. 43, 44.

Away to the Field

By Charles A. Smith

Loitering still in the market-place, Idling the moments by, Listlessly dreaming, while sinks the sun In the glowing western sky, Still there comes to thy drowsy ears The Master's urgent cry, As He earnestly calls thee to the field, Ere the harvest-time pass by.

Think you the Master will gently come, Softly will smooth the way, Pleadingly ask that you will go To the harvest-fields away? Waste not thy time in such idle dreams. To the mart He comes no more; He is out in the fields with the workers there, Who gather the golden store.

Softly the shadows dim the plain, Silently sinks the sun; Only the moments now remain Ere time's long day is done. Speed ye to answer the Master's call That comes from the field away. O, hasten to gather the gleanings in, For the harvest ends with the day!