Come, Labour on!
Who dares stand idle on the harvest plain,
While all around him waves the golden grain?
And to each servant does the Master say,
'Go, work to-day!'

Come, Labour on!
Away with gloomy doubts and faithless fear!
No arm so weak but may do service here;
By feeblest agents can our God fulfil
His righteous will.

Come, Labour on!
No time for rest, till glows the western sky,
Till the long shadows o'er our pathway lie,
And a glad sound comes with the setting sun,
'Servants, well done!'

Come, Labour on!
The toil is pleasant, the reward is sure;
Blessed are those who to the end endure:
How full their joy, how deep their rest, shall be,
O Lord, with thee!


Jane L. Borthwick