Needed Laborers

1 Needed! ten thousand lab'rers,
Wanted at once in the field;
Workers whose hearts are victorious,
Those who can die, but not yield.
Jesus, the Lord of the harvest field,
Sends for the call far and wide,
Few, yea, few are the laborers,
Pray for a great harvest tide.

2 Needed! bold hearted lab'rers
For the dark corners of earth,
Those who amid all hell's cannonry,
Prove forth their heavenly birth;
For them the lost most beseechingly
Stretch forth their hands, call for aid,
From the four winds come the echoing
Art thou not, loiterer, dismayed?

3 Look thou at Africa's heathen tribe,
Ah! they are stretching their hands;
Workers from land of the setting sun,
Come, o come, dwell in our lands.
Darkness as dreadful as Jauggernaut,
Crushes poor India down,
Haste thee on wings of the morning winds,
Bear them their blood-purchased crown.

4 Bear thou the lamp of the word of God,
Hold up its light everywhere;
Stretch out the lost in the darkest lands,
Show them a brotherly care;
Jesus, the Lord of the harvest field,
Whispers, "I'm with you alway,"
Bind up the sheaves for the gathering,
Fast comes Eternity's day.

Source: Garden of Spices: a choice collection for revival meetings, missionary meetings, rescue work, church and Sunday schools #87