Classic Poem

Onward, onward, though the region
Where thou art be drear and lone:
God hath set a guardian legion
Very near thee, — press thou on!

By the thorn-road, and none other,
Is the mount of vision won:
Tread it without shrinking, brother!
Jesus trod it, — press thou on!

By thy trustful, calm endeavor,
Guiding, cheering, like the sun,
Earth-bound hearts thou shalt deliver, —
O for their sake, press thou on!

Be this world the wiser, stronger,
For thy life of pain and peace:
While it needs thee, O no longer
Pray thou for thy quick release;

Pray thou, undisheartened, rather,
That thou be a faithful son;
By the prayer of Jesus, — " Father,
Not my will, but thine, be done!"