Go work for me!

In gloomy hours which seem so drear
Look! God's work can onln cheer.
You must listen if'e're you hear,
The promise of his coming is near.

In this world of sin and hate
Would to God the world He'd shake,
Ere it be left outside the gate
And hear the words, "too late, too late!"

O God give me a desire and a concern
For those who die in fate,
And make my fleshly heart to yearn
Master last it be too late.

Too late my friend, o hear their cry
As in the heathen land they die,
Then with regret you breath a sigh,
Dear God, was it all because of I?

The Master speaks in tenderest tone;
He speaks while sitting on his throne,
"Are these the ones I must disown,
Because my Word to them You've not shown?"

What then, my friend will your answer be
When a soul shall parish because of thee?
Their blood is required at your hands you see,
Because He died for you and He died for me.

Hear his command, yes hear his plea!
And from His word, Oh do not flee.
God is calling, saying to thee,
"Go! my child, Go work for me."

This poem was written by my Grandfather Robert Doolittle October. 16, 1962 who heard and answered the Lords call and came to serve the lord in Brazil South America.