Go, labor on; ‘tis not for naught;
Thy 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
Thy willing heart to mark and cheer;
No toil for Him shall be in vain.
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.
Go on, faint not, keep watch, and pray;
Be wise the erring soul to win;
Go forth into the world’s highway,
Compel the wandered to come in.