Forward leap, the joy partaking,
Of a higher destiny.
Lift thy staff, and move apace
In the pilgrim-thronging race.
T. G. Spear.
There is a light on the hills, and the valley is past!
Ascend, happy pilgrim! thy labours are o’er!
The sunshine of Heaven around thee is cast,
And thy weak, doubting footsteps can falter no more.