1 Hast to the plow thou put thy hand,
Let not thy spirit waver.
Heed not the world’s allurements grand
Nor pause for Sodom’s favor.
But plow thy furrow, sow thy seed,
Tho' tares and thorns thy work impede;
For he who sows with weeping
Shall soon in joy be reaping.

2 But should at times thy courage fail,--
For human strength may falter--
Let not the tempting world prevail
On thee thy course to alter.
He that would win must forward go;
Retreat can bring thee naught but woe;
When foes bid thee defiance,
On God be thy reliance.

3 If to the course we faithful keep,
The race will soon be ended;
Yea, death itself is but a sleep,
Its veil shall soon be rended.
Then those who conquer in the strife
Obtain the victor's crown of life
And dwell in constant gladness,
Forgetting all their sadness.

4 Press onward then in Jesus' name,
Tho' thorns and rocks enclose thee;
Yea, forward, tho' with sword and flame
The bitter foe oppose thee.
Thus shalt thou win the glorious prize
And dwell with God in Paradise,
To drink, on Zion's mountain,
From life's eternal fountain.