D. March

HARK! the voice of Jesus crying,

“Who will go and work today?

Fields are white, and harvest waiting;

Who will bear the sheaves away?”

Loud and strong the Master calleth,

Rich reward He offers thee;

Who will answer, gladly saying,

“Here am I; send me, send me!

Here am I; send me, send me!”


If you cannot cross the ocean,

And the heathen lands explore,

You can find the heathen nearer,

You can help them at your door.

If you cannot give your thousands,

You can give the widow’s mite;

And the least you do for Jesus,

Will be precious in His sight,

Will be precious in His sight.


If you cannot speak like angels,

If you cannot preach like Paul,

You can tell the love of Jesus,

You can say He died for all.

If you cannot rouse the wicked

With the judgement’s dread alarms,

You can lead the little children

To the Saviour’s waiting arms,

To the Saviour’s waiting arms.


If you cannot be the watchman,

Standing high on Zion’s wall,

Pointing out the path to heaven,

Offering life and peace to all;

With your prayers and with your bounties

You can do what heaven demands;

You can be like faithful Aaron,

Holding up the prophet’s hands,

Holding up the prophet’s hands.


If among the older people

You may not be apt to teach,

“Feed my lambs,” said Christ, our Shepherd,

“Place the food within their reach.”

And it may be that the children

You have led with trembling hand,

Will be found among your jewels,

When you reach the better land,

When you reach the better land.


Let none hear you idly saying,

“There is nothing I can do.”

While the souls of men are dying,

And the Master calls for you.

Take the task He gives you gladly,

Let His work your pleasure be;

Answer quickly when He calleth,

“Here am I; send me, send me!

Here am I; send me, send me!”


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