1 The fields are all white, And the reapers are few, We children are willing, But what can we do, To work for our Lord in His harvest? 2 Our hands are so small, And our words are so weak, We cannot teach others; How then shall we seek To work for our Lord in His harvest? 3 We'll work by our prayers, By the offerings we bring, By small self-denials; The least little thing May work for our Lord in His harvest, 4 Until, by and by, As the years pass at length, We too may be reapers, And go forth in strength To work for our Lord in His harvest.