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?
Go, labour on: you 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, labour on while it is day: The world’s dark night is hastening on; Speed, speed thy work; cast sloth away; It is not thus that souls are won.
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.
Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice; For toil comes rest, for exile home; Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom’s voice, The midnight cry, ‘Behold, I come!’
Horatius Bonar, 1808-89