Go, labour on, spend, and be spent, Thy joy to do the Father's will; It is the way the Master went, Should not the servant tread it still?

Go, labour on; 'tis not for nought, Thy earthly loss is heavenly gain; Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not, The Master praises, what are men?

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, and in thy toil rejoice, For toil comes rest, for exile home; Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom's voice, The midnight peal, "Behold, I come!"