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Verse 1

A charge to keep I have,
A God to glorify;
A never-dying-soul to save,
And fit it for the sky:—

Verse 2

To serve the present age,
My calling to fulfill,—
Oh! may it all my powers engage—
To do my Master’s will.

Verse 3

Arm me with jealous care,
As in thy sight to live;
And, oh, thy servant, Lord! prepare
A strict account to give.

Verse 4

Help me to watch and pray,
And on thyself rely;
Assured, if I my trust betray,
I shall forever die.

Verse 1

Are you Christ’s light bearer?
Of his joy a sharer?
Is this dark world fairer
For your cheering ray?
Is your beacon lighted,
Guiding souls benighted
To the land of perfect day?

Refrain

Oh, brother, is your lamp trimmed and burning?
Is the world made brighter by its cheering ray?
Are you ever waiting
For your Lord’s returning?
Are you watching day by day?

Verse 2

Is your heart warm glowing,
With his love o’erflowing,
And his goodness showing
More and more each day?
Are you pressing onward,
With Christ’s faithful vanguard,
In the safe and narrow way?

Verse 3

Keep your altars burning,
Wait your Lord’s returning,
While your heart’s deep yearning
Draws him ever near;
With his radiance splendid
Shall your light be blended
When his glory shall appear?

Verse 1

Awake, my soul--stretch every nerve,
And press with vigor on;
A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
A bright, immortal crown.

Verse 2

’Tis God’s all-animating voice
That calls thee from on high:
’Tis his own hand presents the prize
To thine aspiring eye.

Verse 3

A cloud of witnesses around,
Hold thee in full survey:
Forget the steps already trod,
And onward urge thy way.

Verse 4

Blest Savior, introduced by thee
Have we our race begun;
And, crowned with vict’ry, at thy feet
We’ll lay our laurels down.

Verse 1

Blest is the man whose heart doth move,
And melt with pity to the poor;
Whose soul, by sympathizing love,
Feels what his fellow-saints endure.

Verse 2

His heart contrives, for their relief,
More good than his own hands can do;
He, in the time of general grief,
Shall find the Lord has pity too.

Verse 3

His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head,
When drought, and pestilence, and dearth
Around him multiply their dead.

Verse 4

Or, if he languish on his couch,
God will pronounce his sins forgiven,
Will save him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing soul to heaven.

Verse 1

Blest is the man, whose softening heart
Feels all another’s pain;
To whom the supplicating eye
Was never raised in vain;--

Verse 2

Whose breast expands with generous warmth,
A stranger’s woes to feel,
And bleeds in pity o’er the wound
He wants the power to heal.

Verse 3

He spreads his kind supporting arms
To every child of grief;
Hie secret bounty largely flows,
And brings unasked relief.

Verse 4

To gentle offices of love,
His feet are never slow;
He views, through mercy’s melting eye,
A brother in a foe.

Verse 1

Come, we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known,
Join in a song with sweet accord,
And thus surround the throne.

Refrain

We’re marching to Zion,
Beautiful, beautiful Zion,
We’re marching upward to Zion,
The beautiful city of God.

Verse 2

Let those refuse to sing
Who never knew our God;
But children of the heavenly King
May speak their joys abroad.

Verse 3

The hill of Zion yields
A thousand sacred sweets,
Before we reach the heavenly fields,
Or walk the golden streets.

Verse 4

Then let our songs abound,
And ev’ry tear be dry;
We’re marching thro’ Immanuel’s ground
To fairer worlds on high.

Verse 1

Go, labor 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?

Verse 2

Go, labor on; ’tis not for naught;
Thine earthly loss is heavenly gain;
Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not,
The Master praises;--what are men?

Verse 3

Go, labor on; enough, while here,
If he shall praise thee, if he deign
Thy willing heart to mark and cheer,
No toil for him shall be in vain.

Verse 4

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!”

Verse 1

Go, labor 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.

Verse 2

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.

Verse 3

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.

Verse 4

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!