Verse 1
Lord of harvest, open Thine ear
Reveal Thyself to Zion's host
Send out servants possessed with zeal
Who are quick to take instructions.

Verse 2
Look down on us, O Lord our God
The fields are white unto harvest
Vast fields are opened before us
Harvest is much, but labourers few.

Verse 3
Stretch out Thy hand of pow'r and might
And make all Zion's sons, arise
As watchmen, to proclaim free grace
And bless the remnant of our race.