Behold the harvest wide extends (M. Ryan Taylor)

Behold the harvest wide extends,
The fields are white all o’er the plain,
The tares in bundles must be bound
While we with care secure the grain.

How rich is the treasure, ye saints of the Lord,
Entrusted to us as made known by His word,
The plan of Salvation, the Gospel of grace,
To publish a broad unto Adam’s lost race!

Shall we repine when Jesus calls,
or count it sacrifice to spend our lives,
Or lose them for the Gospel sake,
When He, our Savior, did the same,
Without a place to lay His Head?

Shall we behold the nations doomed
to sword, and famine, blood and fire,
Yet not the least exertion make,
but from the scene in peace retire?

No; Gladly we’ll go to the isles and proclaim,
And nations unknown shall then hear of His fame;
Yea, kingdoms and countries, both Gentiles and Jews,
Shall see us and hear us proclaim the glad news.

Give ear, ye isles in ev’ry zone,
For ev’ry land must hear the sound!
And tongues and nations long unknown
Since they were lost, shall soon be found.