Labourers For Christ, Arise,
And Gird You For The Toil !
The Dew Of Promise From The Skies
Already Cheers The Soil.

Go Where The Sick Recline,
Where Mourning Hearts Deplore ;
And Where The Sons Of Sorrow Pine,
Dispense Your Hallowed Lore.

Be Faith, Which Looks Above,
With Prayer, Your Constant Guest ;
And Wrap The Saviour’s Changeless Love
A Mantle Round Your Breast,

So Shall You Share The Wealth
That Earth May Ne’er Despoil ;
And The Blest Gospel’s Saving Health
Repay Your Arduous Toil.