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!