Life is a day. In its morning bright
We frolic and scamper, free and light.
'Tis a happy path that we have to run,
The way is pleasant when new-begun.
The sky of our youth is clear and blue,
With no clouds to impede our raptured view;
There's a prize to win in its golden hours—
Let us work with zeal, and that prize is ours.
There's a laurel crown for the victor's brow,
And a time to win it—that time is now!
Now, when our hearts are young and gay,
Ere the light of our morning fades away.
It is hard to work 'neath the noon-day sun,
But the rest shall be sweet when the work is done;
It is hard to struggle and fight alone,
But the prize we win shall be all our own.

The noontide fades, and the evening grey
Overtakes us soon on our weary way;
But our day of working will soon be o'er,
And the rest is nearer us than before.

Life is a night, to watch and pray
For the coming dawn of a brighter day;
But our lamps are trimmed—we have nought to fear,
The darkness is fleeting—the dawn is near.

And now we see through a darkened glass
The shadowy scenes of the future pass;
But then, in a morn of unclouded light,
It shall break in glory upon our sight.
The Master shall come when the night is o'er,
And bid us to work and watch no more;
He shall tell His servants their work is done,
And bestow the crown they have nobly won!