Onward, bro­ther, nob­ly on­ward,
Swell the ranks of truth and right;
Let your light be grand and glor­ious,
For the cause of jus­tice fight;
Shrink not from the field of la­bor,
Farthest from the path of fame;
Look not for­ward to the hour
When a na­tion speaks your name.

Gently raise a fall­en bro­ther,
Jesus’ lost and wea­ry sheep;
And re­mem­bering His ex­am­ple,
Lead them up the moun­tains steep;
Just across the mys­tic riv­er,
In that pure and si­nless land,
Angel bands ap­plaud your work,
And will lend a help­ing hand.

To direct your footsteps ev­er,
Higher up the mount­ain side,
Nearer to the hap­py man­sions,
Just a­cross the flow­ing tide;
When the souls are unit­ed,
And the pain of life has fled,
Oh! what joy to see some soul,
That your words have home­ward led.

Or to hear the gen­tle bless­ing,
Of a trust­ing lit­tle child,
That your hands have gent­ly guid­ed
To the Sav­ior un­de­filed;
Onward, bro­ther, nob­ly on­ward,
Swell the ranks of truth and right;
May your life be grand and glor­ious,
And your crown with stars be bright.