The Mas­ter hath come,
And He calls us to fol­low
The track of the foot­prints
He leaves on our way;
Far ov­er the mount­ain
And through the deep hol­low,
The path leads us on to
The man­sions of day:
The Mas­ter hath called us,
The child­ren who fear Him,
Who march ’neath Christ’s ban­ner,
His own lit­tle band;
We love Him and seek Him,
We long to be near Him,
And rest in the light of
His beau­ti­ful land.

The Mas­ter hath called us;
The road may be drea­ry
And dan­gers and sorrows
Are strewn on the track;
But God’s Ho­ly Spir­it
Shall com­fort the wea­ry;
We fol­low the Sav­ior
And can­not turn back;
The Mas­ter hath called us,
Though doubt and temp­ta­tion
May com­pass our jour­ney,
We cheer­ful­ly sing:
Press on­ward, look up­ward,
Through much tri­bu­la­tion;
The child­ren of Zi­on
Must fol­low the King.

The Mas­ter hath called us,
In life’s ear­ly morn­ing,
With spir­its as fresh as
The dew on the sod:
We turn from the world,
With its smiles and its scorn­ing,
To cast in our lot with
The peo­ple of God:
The Mas­ter hath called us,
His sons and His daugh­ters,
We plead for His bless­ing
And trust in His love;
And through the green pas­tures,
Beside the still wa­ters,
He’ll lead us at last to
His king­dom above.