To pray as Jesus prayed,
When faithless brethren sleep, -
To weep the ruin sin has made -
The only ones that weep, -
To bear the heavy cross, -
To toil, yet murmur not, -
To suffer pain, reproach, and loss, -
Be such our earthly lot.

Yet oh, how richly blest
The Master's cup to share, -
The aching grief that wrung His breast, -
His broken-hearted prayer, -
If thus we may but gain
One sheaf of golden wheat
Gleaned from Earth's sultry harvest-plain,
To lay at His dear feet! -

If thus we may but win
One precious earthly gem
Snatched from the mire of vice and sin,
For His rich diadem! -
Here, sorrow, patience, prayer;
In Heaven, the rich reward!
Here, the sharp thorns, the cross, - and there
"Forever with the Lord"!