1 The fields are white to harvest, but the laborers are few,
Do not idle, do not loiter by the way;
Lo, the Master calls for reapers, and the Master calls for you,
Go labor in my harvest-field today.

Refrain:
To the harvest field away!
There is danger in delay!
Day soon is past,—night falls so fast—
To the harvest field, to the harvest field,
To the harvest field away,
To the harvest field to the harvest field, away!

2 The fields are white to harvest, but the laborers are few,
See, the sun is in the zenith—haste away!
There are sheaves which must be garnered, there is work for all to do,
Go labor in my harvest-field today. [Refrain]

3 The fields are white to harvest, but the laborers are few,
Shadows lengthen, soon will come the close of day;
If the Savior’s blessing you would win when tasks and toils are through,
Go labor in my harvest-field today. [Refrain]