1 On the field of work advancing,
Sow thy seed at morning light;
Cheerily the furrows turning,
Labor on with all thy might;
Why await the far-off future,
When the work before thee lies?
Thou must sow before thou reapest,
Find thy rest in labor’s prize.
2 Standing still is dangerous ever,
Toil is meant for Christians now;
Let there be, when evening cometh,
Honest sweat upon thy brow;
And the Master then will greet thee,
At the setting of the sun,
Saying, as He pays thy wages,
“Good and faithful one, well done!”