Go, labor on; spend, and be spent;

Thy joy to do the Father's will;

It is the way the Master went;

Should not the servant tread it still?

Go, labor on: 'tis not for nought;

Thy earthly loss is heav'nly gain;

Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not;

The Master praises, what are men?

Go, labor on: your hands are weak,

Your knees are faint, your souls cast down;

Yet falter not; the prize you seek

Is near, a kingdom and a crown.

Go, labor on while it is day,

The world's dark night is hastening on;

Speed, speed thy work, cast sloth away,

It is not thus that souls are won.

Men die in darkness at your side,

Without a hope to cheer the tomb;

Take up the torch and wave it wide,

The torch that lights time's thickest gloom.

Press on, faint not, keep watch and pray;

Be wise the erring soul to win;

Go forth into the world's highway,

Compel the wanderer to come in.

Press on, and in thy work rejoice;

For work comes rest, the prize thus won;

Soon shalt thou hear the Master's voice,

The midnight cry, Behold, I come!