Poem October 17, 1901 Issue

Onward

BY WILLARD G. FLEMING.

Ye toilers in the upward way
Worn by the burdens of the day,
Your armor gird, your courage keep;
Press forward, though the path be steep.

Why would ye halt with timid gaze,
And seek to pierce the distant haze?
Why doubt the way-marks all along?
O ye of weakened faith, be strong!

The wage is earned when day is done;
The prize is gained when the race is run;
Think not the Master's crown to wear
Till thou his cross hast learned to bear.

The God of Love has ever led,
Though clouds at times hung close o'erhead;
So, though the path seems sometimes dim,
Still journey on, and trust in Him.

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