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 naught Thine earthly loss is heavenly gain; Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not; The Master praises: what are men? Go, labor on! enough, while here, If He shall praise thee, if He deign The willing heart to mark and cheer: No toil for Him shall be in vain. Go, labor on! Your hands are weak, Your knees are faint, your soul 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 thy side, Without a hope to cheer the tomb; Take up the torch and wave it wide, The torch that lights time’s thickest gloom. Toil 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. Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice! For toil comes rest, for exile home; Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom’s voice, The midnight peal, “Behold, I come!” |