White is the harvest, calls the Master for you, Reapers are needed that are faithful and true; Thrust in the sickle, all the sheaves gather in; Go with gospel tidings, go the lost world to win.
Refrain: Heralds of truth from the dawn till close of day, Tell of His love to the millions, don’t delay; See, they are perishing, in sin they repine, Go, ye gospel heralds, with the message divine.
Search in the highways, bid the wand’rer to come, Rescue the dying, all the lost gather home; Stay not in idleness, the shadows will fall, Fast the day is waning, tell the story to all.
Over the billows comes a heart-rending cry— Wails from the millions who in sin hopeless die, Pleading for mercy who will cross o’er the waves, With the blessed tidings, “Jesus saves, Jesus saves”?
Swift toward eternity they haste, nor they wait, Fast they are perishing, how sad is their state! Work ere the day decline and soon come the night, Till the world is flaming with the pure, gospel light.
Haste then, ye messengers, nor tarry for dross, Bid every guilty one to bow at His cross, Washing away their crimson stains in His blood, Till the world of sinners is redeemed unto God.