I used to think we had all the time we need,

To plow the field and plant the seed;

But now I realize the darkened skies say

Night is stealing on

And while we wait,

It's growing late 'til day is gone

Say not, "Tomorrow I'll hold to the plow,"

There's no time to borrow, it's summer now;

The helpless millions reach out for mercy's hand;

While God's still searching for someone to till the land.

So many die, never knowing why He came,

Like fallen grain and we're all to blame;

Yet in His nail-scarred hands there is a deed

To a land of abundant yield

And He seeks for you to join the few and work the field

Say not, "Tomorrow I'll hold to the plow,"

There's no time to borrow, it's summer now;

The helpless millions reach out for mercy's hand;

While God's still searching for someone to till the land.

Yes, God's still searching for someone to till the land.