The world's dark night is hastening on;
Speed, speed thy work, cast sloth away:
It is not thus that souls are won.
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.
Toil on, faint not, keep watch and pray;
Be wise, the erring soul to win;
Go forth into the world's highway,