Poems (Barker)/Workers in the Father's Harvest

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Workers in the Father's Harvest.
Workers in the Father's harvest,   Are we all;Every one can hear His summons,   Great and small.You among the reapers stand,Is your sickle in your hand?
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Now in patience some are working.   Ever true;To the Master's voice, so gentle,   Calling you.Calling you as well as them,Saying, "every wrong condemn."
Others stand with listless manner,   Without care;With their best impulses never   Brought to bear,Caring not whose is the lossSo they do not bear the cross.
Others too, their sickle, holding,   In their hand.With a great pretence of labor,   Idle stand;But the Master sees us all,Watches over great and small.
Yes, the Master's eye is on us,   And His voiceSoft and low, the fainting spirit   Makes rejoice;And his eye is never dim,Every deed is known to Him.
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You are standing with the others,   In youa place,Does your heart feel all his goodness   And his grace?Does His lamp of love grow dim?Are you ever lost from him?
Do you keep each solemn promise   That you ma e?Were the vows you calmly uttered   Made to break?Looking o'er the path you've trodWere you working for your God?
Ask yourself this question some times,   As you stand,"Were the vows my lips have uttered   Wrote in sand?Have I ever led from truthPure and trusting hearts in youth?"
Ask yourself, and well remember,   Every word;If some heart so pure and gentle   Has been stirred;Did you point the path they trod?Ask yourself and ask your God.
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Have you ever calmly uttered   Words you knew,When they fell so plain and candid,   Were untrue?Oh, there is a heart you grieveWhich you never can deceive.

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