CH1941, Hymn #657

Verse 1
On the shore beyond the sea,
Where the fields are bright and fair,
There's a call, a plaintive plea,
I must hasten to be there.

Verse 2
Hark! I hear the Master say,
"Up, ye reapers! why so slow?"
To the vineyard, far away,
Earthly kindred, let me go.

Verse 3
Just beyond the rolling tide,
The uplifted hand I see;
Lo! the gates are open wide,
And the lost are calling me.

Verse 4
Father, mother, darling child,
I must bid you all adieu;
Far across the waters wild,
There's a work for me to do.