Poems (Barker)/Workers in the Father's Harvest

by Alice J. Green Barker

Workers in the Father's Harvest.

Workers in the Father's harvest,
   Are we all;
Every one can hear His summons,
   Great and small.
You among the reapers stand,
Is your sickle in your hand?

Now in patience some are working.
   Ever true;
To the Master's voice, so gentle,
   Calling you.
Calling you as well as them,
Saying, "every wrong condemn."

Others stand with listless manner,
   Without care;
With their best impulses never
   Brought to bear,
Caring not whose is the loss
So they do not bear the cross.

Others too, their sickle, holding,
   In their hand.
With a great pretence of labor,
   Idle stand;
But the Master sees us all,
Watches over great and small.

Yes, the Master's eye is on us,
   And His voice
Soft and low, the fainting spirit
   Makes rejoice;
And his eye is never dim,
Every deed is known to Him.

You are standing with the others,
   In youa place,
Does your heart feel all his goodness
   And his grace?
Does His lamp of love grow dim?
Are you ever lost from him?

Do you keep each solemn promise
   That you ma e?
Were the vows you calmly uttered
   Made to break?
Looking o'er the path you've trod
Were you working for your God?

Ask yourself this question some times,
   As you stand,
"Were the vows my lips have uttered
   Wrote in sand?
Have I ever led from truth
Pure and trusting hearts in youth?"

Ask yourself, and well remember,
   Every word;
If some heart so pure and gentle
   Has been stirred;
Did you point the path they trod?
Ask yourself and ask your God.

Have you ever calmly uttered
   Words you knew,
When they fell so plain and candid,
   Were untrue?
Oh, there is a heart you grieve
Which you never can deceive.