1 Win the precious souls to Jesus;
He that winneth souls is wise;
Gather in the precious harvest
For the garner of the skies.
Lost and stumbling in the darkness
See the millions daily go;
Gather in our share, my brother,
From the awful fields of woe.

2 They will thank you when you've saved them,
Tho' they laugh at you today;
Let not scoffings you discourage,
They will weep like you some day.
Win the precious souls to Jesus!
How He longs their souls to bless!
How He longs to cleanse their spirits,
Filling them with righteousness!

3 Win them! win them! love and win them!
He that winneth souls is wise,
And will shine in yonder city
With the splendor of the skies.
Win them! win them! love and win them!
Neither soul or body spare;
You shall stand at last with Jesus,
And the spoil of glory share!