1 Away to the harvest field, toilers, away;
Go gather the golden grain whilst it is day,
Strength meet for thy labour thy Lord will bestow.
Away to the harvest field, labourers, go,
For now is the time to be doing thy best,
Soon, soon will be coming the season for rest.

Refrain:
Away, away,
away, away,
For soon will be ended
The bright, the bright harvest day.
Away, away,
away, away,
For soon will be ended
The bright, the bright harvest day.

2 Behold how the ripen'd grain bends to the earth!
The harvest is ready, oh, why such a dearth
Of labourers ready and willing to toil?
Will they listlessly suffer the rich grain to spoil?
No, it must not be so; to the field hie away,
With heart and with hand to the work whilst it is day. [Refrain]

3 O say not, "No work of this sort can I do,"
For some kind of toil there is even for you,
For if the keen sickle thy hand may not wield,
Bind together the sheaves, or else glean in the field.
If you follow the reapers over the ground,
Full many a rich golden ear shall be found. [Refrain]

4 And when the last sheaf to the garner has come,
And saints join with angels to shout, "Harvest home,"
When labour is over, then rest and reward,
And the welcome, "Well done," from the lips of the Lord.
Away to the harvest field, toil while you may,
Soon, soon will be ended the bright harvest day. [Refrain]