Press for­ward, press for­ward,
Press for­ward to the prize;
While life’s bright morn, with ro­sy hue,
Bedecks the flow­ers that bathed with dew,
Salute thy wak­ing eyes,
Press for­ward to the prize.

Refrain

Forward, for­ward,
Press for­ward to the prize.
Forward, for­ward,
Press for­ward to the prize.

Press for­ward, press for­ward,
Press for­ward to the prize;
When in the noon of life thy heart
From Heav’n’s high call­ing would de­part,
And doubts and fears arise,
Press for­ward to the prize.

Refrain

Press for­ward, press for­ward,
Press for­ward to the prize;
When morn and noon of life are past,
And ev­en­ing sha­dows length­en fast,
And swift the day­light flies,
Press for­ward to the prize.

Refrain

Press for­ward, press for­ward,
Press for­ward to the prize;
Though sweet the songs we sing below,
A rich­er prize will Heav’n be­stow,
And there our trea­sure lies,
Press for­ward to the prize.

Refrain