Sons of la­bor, dear to Je­sus,
To your homes and work again;
Go with brave hearts back to du­ty,
Face the pe­ril, bear the pain.
Be your dwell­ings ne’er so low­ly,
Yet re­mem­ber, by your bed,
That the Son of God most ho­ly
Had not where to lay His head.

Sons of la­bor, think of Je­sus
As you rest your homes with­in,
Think of that sweet babe of Ma­ry
In the sta­ble of the inn.
Think how in the sac­red story
Jesus took a hum­ble grade,
And the Lord of life and glo­ry
Worked with Jo­seph at His trade.

Sons of la­bor, pray to Je­sus;
Oh, how Je­sus prayed for you!
In the moon­light, on the mount­ain,
Where the shim­mer­ing ol­ives grew.
When you rise up at the dawn­ing,
Ere in toil you wend your way,
Pray, as He prayed, in the morn­ing,
Long be­fore the break of day.

Sons of labor, be like Je­sus,
Undefilèd, chaste, and pure;
And, though Sa­tan tempt you sore­ly,
By His grace you shall en­dure.
Husband, fa­ther, son and bro­ther,
Be ye gen­tle, just and true—
Be ye kind to one an­oth­er,
As the Lord is kind to you.

Sons of la­bor, seek for Je­sus,
Where He tells you ye shall find,
In the child­ren, ’mid the mourn­ers,
In the sick, poor, lame and blind—
Search the Scrip­tures, He en­treats you,
For of Me they tes­ti­fy;
Love His al­tar, where He meets you,
Saying, Fear not—It is I.

Sons of la­bor, go to Je­sus,
In your sor­row, shame and loss;
He is near­est, you are dear­est,
When you brav­ely bear His cross.
Go to Him, who died to save you,
And is still the sin­ner’s friend;
And the great love, which for­gave you,
Will for­give you to the end.

Sons of la­bor, live for Je­sus,
Be your work your wor­ship, too;
In His name, and to His glo­ry,
Do what­e’er you find to do;
Till this night of sin and sor­row
Be for ever ov­er­past;
And we see the gold­en mor­row,
Home with Je­sus, home at last!