Saints of God! the dawn is brightening,
Token of our coming Lord:
O’er the earth the field is whitening;
Louder rings the Mas­ter’s Word;
Pray for reapers, pray for reapers
In the harvest of the Lord!

Feebly now they toil in sadness,
Weeping o’er the waste around,
Slowly gathering grains of gladness,
While their echoing cries resound,
Pray that reapers, pray that reapers,
In God’s harvest may abound.

Now, O Lord, fulfill Thy pleasure,
Breathe upon Thy chosen band,
And, with Pentecostal measure,
Send forth reapers o’er our land;
Faithful reapers, faithful reapers,
Gathering sheaves for Thy right hand.

Broad the shadow of our nation,
Eager millions hither roam;
Lo! they wait for Thy sal­va­tion;
Come, Lord Je­sus! quickly come!
By Thy Spi­rit, by Thy Spi­rit,
Bring Thy ransomed people home.

Soon shall end the time of weeping,
Soon the reaping time will come;
Heaven and earth together keeping
God’s eter­nal harvest home.
Saints and angels, saints and angels,
Shout the world’s great harvest home.