Go Labor On Your Hands Are Weak

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!

Go, labor on, while it is day;
The world’s dark night is hastening on:
Speed, speed thy work,–cast sloth away!
For thus it is 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.