 | Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular |  |
40
X
SURSUM
Vesper adest: iuvenes, consurgite—
Onward and upward, whatever the way;
Gloomy or glad, through darkness and day:
Vow'd to the end, be it distant or soon,
Under the banner of Christ to march on;
Strong in His armour to war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward!
Gloomy or glad, through darkness and day:
Vow'd to the end, be it distant or soon,
Under the banner of Christ to march on;
Strong in His armour to war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward!
'Tis to no easy achievement we go;
Self must meet self, as a man meets his foe;
Thoughtlessness, indolence, coldness of soul,
Selfishness,—are between us and the goal,
As on life's meadow we war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward.
Self must meet self, as a man meets his foe;
Thoughtlessness, indolence, coldness of soul,
Selfishness,—are between us and the goal,
As on life's meadow we war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward.
'Tis not the doubters who move us to flight;
We see in faith, where they waver in night.
'Tis not the evil of things that we fear;
All the world's mystery cannot be clear
As in this twilight we war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward.
We see in faith, where they waver in night.
'Tis not the evil of things that we fear;
All the world's mystery cannot be clear
As in this twilight we war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward.
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But with the self within self, and the heart
Ready to stray, are the pain and the smart:—
Here are the foes, as we march to the goal;
—Saviour and Lord! be the soul of the soul
In this hard lifelong campaign against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward.
Ready to stray, are the pain and the smart:—
Here are the foes, as we march to the goal;
—Saviour and Lord! be the soul of the soul
In this hard lifelong campaign against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward.
Fierce in the heart is the battle of life;
Bitter the wounds,—yet not hopeless the strife;
Groans in the darkness, and cry upon cry:
Yet there is One Who will not let us die,
Heading the march as we war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward.
Bitter the wounds,—yet not hopeless the strife;
Groans in the darkness, and cry upon cry:
Yet there is One Who will not let us die,
Heading the march as we war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward.
High o'er the host floats His banner along,
Red with the love that redeems us from wrong;
He has made ready a home for His own;
He will return to the rescue alone,—
Leader and Lord, as we war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward!
Red with the love that redeems us from wrong;
He has made ready a home for His own;
He will return to the rescue alone,—
Leader and Lord, as we war against ill,
With a will, with a will,
Onward and upward!
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