Lab’rers For Christ, Arise,
And Gird You For The Toil!
The Dew Of Promise From The Skies,
Already Cheers The Soil.
Go Where The Sick Recline,
Where Mourning Hearts Deplore;
And Where The Sons Of Sorrow Pine,
Dispense Your Hallowed Lore.
By Faith, Which Looks Above,
With Prayer, Your Constant Guest;
And Wrap The Saviour’s
Changeless Love
A Mantle Round Your Breast.
So Shall You Share The Wealth
That Earth May Ne’er Despoil;
And The Blest Gospel’s Saving Health
Repay Your Arduous Toil.
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