For conquered fields I do not ask,
From toil and tears I would not flee;
Nor do I seek the ea­sy task,
The hil­ly land my choice would be.
The foe is there, and lo, his sword
Is drawn, the land he will not yield;
But God is faith­ful and His Word
Shall be my fort­ress and my shield.

Refrain

Give me the field of la­bor,
Let me work till set of sun,
That when the Mas­ter com­eth,
He may say, Well done!

I do not ask that He will give
The milk and ho­ney of the land;
I do not ask that I may live
In gild­ed home or pal­ace grand.
The threat­en­ing storm I do not fear,
The thor­ny path I would not shun,
But on­ly plead that He might hear
My pray­er for strength the race to run.

Refrain

If dis­ap­point­ment be my lot,
And scorn­ful foes dis­tress my life,
I trust in Him, He fails me not,
But grants me peace in midst of strife.
Thus shall my days glide swift­ly on,
Till in this world I cease to roam,
Till sights and sounds of time are gone,
And I have reached my end­less home.

Refrain