Morn, noon, and night,
Through days o’ercast and bright,
My purpose still is one;
I have one end in view,
Daily one thing I do,
Until my object’s won.
Behind my back I fling,
Like an unvalued thing,
My former self and ways:
And reaching forward far,
I seek the things that are
Beyond time’s lagging days.
I have a prize in view,
Whose worth no words can show,
This Prize I seek alone:
All things are worthless dross,
All things I count but loss
For Jesus fully known.
O! may I follow still,
Faith’s pilgrimage fulfill,
With steps both sure and fleet;
The longed-for goal I see,
Jesus waits there for me;
Haste! haste! my pilgrim feet.