S. G. Stock

O MASTER, when Thou callest,

No voice may say Thee nay,

For blest are they that follow

Where Thou dost lead the way;

In freshest prime of morning,

Or fullest glow of noon,

The note of heavenly warning

Can never come to soon.


O Master, where Thou callest,

No foot may shrink in fear,

For they who trust Thee wholly

Shall find Thee ever near;

And quiet room and lonely,

Or busy harvest field,

Where Thou, Lord, rulest only,

Shall precious produce yield.


O Master, whom Thou callest,

No heart may dare refuse;

’Tis honor, highest honor,

When Thou dost deign to use

Our brightest and our fairest,

Our dearest, all are Thine;

Thou Who for each one carest,

We hail Thy love’s design.


They who go forth to serve Thee,

We, too, who serve at home,

May watch and pray together

Until Thy kingdom come;

In Thee for aye united,

Our song of hope we raise,

Till that blest shore is sighted,

Where all shall turn to praise!


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