Ho! idlers in the vineyard

Ho! idlers in the vineyard,Why wasting all the day?The Master soon is comingTo bear the fruit away;Then closed will be thy mission,The harvest will be pastThe summer quickly ended,And lost thy soul at last.

Then rouse thee, idle gleaner;Perform the work at hand;Be earnest in thy duty,And ready at command.Fill well the place assigned thee,Though hard may seem thy lot;With Heaven's approbation,Be every ill forgot.

Soon, on a cloud of glory,Thy Saviour will appear,All faces gather paleness,And nations quake with fear.O then thy name he 'll honor,And for thy service now,A crown of fadeless gloryHe 'll place upon thy brow.

A mansion in the cityWhose glories far outshineThe sun in noon-day splendor,Shall evermore be thine.The jasper walls of heavenShall echo thy refrain,—The anthem of redemption,To Jesus that was slain.