Up, Away To The Harvest Field,
Gather In The Golden Yield;
Gird Your Armor And Faithful Be,
For The Master Calleth Thee.

Thrust Your Sickle In, The Harvest Time Is Here,
Labor With Your Might, The Judgment Day Is Near;
Thrust Your Sickle In, The Grain Is Falling Fast,
Haste, Ere Harvest Time Is Past.

Always Take With You Faith’s Bright Shield,
And Your Sickle Bravely Wield;
Stand Against Cunning Foes You See,
For The Master Calleth Thee.

Keep Uplifted The Word Of Truth,
Spreading Light To Hopeful Youth;
Bowed To Him Must Be Every Knee,
For The Master Calleth Thee.

Take With You Holy Peace And Love,
Lift Despairing Souls Above;
Toil To Make Sinful Mortals Free,
For The Master Calleth Thee.

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