Wake, Brother, Wake

When He comes, then the time for love’s labor is o’er,
We can preach, we can visit, can wrestle no more:
The sword will be sheathed and the race will be run,
The harvest be reaped, and the victory won.
The third watch of the night, or the fourth may be past;
Of the twelve hours for working, this may be the last;
Then wake, brother, wake; work, brother, today:
Tomorrow, the Master may call us away.