go labour on

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; 'This 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!’