Earth's harvest great is ripe indeed,
But laborers true, seem few;
Ah! help me Lord, my heart doth plead,
Some needful part to do.
Wise as the serpent let me be
In laboring for thy truth;
Let it absorb my every thought
And to my love give proof.
With cunning let me overtake
Some stranger, and by me
Thy love reveal, Thy truth impart,
And charm them Lord for Thee.
And, gentle as a dove I'd be,
Infused with love and power;
Go forth to win all hearts to Thee
Until my latest hour.
Help me Thy wisdom and Thy power
To show forth with Thy love;
Thy Justice, too, make clear to view
And lead their thoughts above.
And while the members of the Bride
Part from each other here,
May it my blessed privilege be
To comfort some and cheer.
By Thy example may we each
Be strengthened, not in vain
To sacrifice earth's present things,
The promised prize to gain.
—Mrs. M. M. Land.