Go, labor on, while yet 'tis 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 your side
Without a hope to cheer the tomb;
Take up the torch and wave it wide—
The torch that lights time's thickest gloom.
Toil on, faint not, keep watch, and pray!
Be wise the erring soul to win,
Go forth into the world's highway,
Compel the wanderer to come in.
Go, labor on; your hands are weak,
Your knees are faint, your soul cast down;
Yet falter not; the prize you seek
Is near—a kingdom and a crown!