Pressing On

Verse 1

This is the day of toil Beneath earth's sultry noon; This is the day of service true, But resting cometh soon.

Verse 2

Spend and be spent would we, While lasteth time's brief day; No turning back in coward fear, No ling'ring by the way.

Verse 3

Onward we press in haste, Upward our journey still; Ours is the path the Master trod Thro' good report and ill.

Verse 4

The way may rougher grow, The weariness increase, We gird our loins and hasten on, The end, the end is peace.