Believe not those who say The upward path is smooth, Lest thou shouldst stumble in the way, And faint before the truth.
It is the only road Unto the realms of joy； But he who seeks that blest abode1 Must all his powers employ.
Bright hopes and pure delight Upon his course may beam, And there, amid the sternest heights, The sweetest flowerets gleam.
On all her breezes borne, Earth yields no scents2 like those； But he that dares not gasp3 the thorn Should never crave4 the rose.
Armarm thee for the fight！ Cast useless loads away； Watch through the darkest hours of night； Toil5 through the hottest day.
Crush pride into the dust, Or thou must needs be slack； And trample6 down rebellious7 lust8, Or it will hold thee back.
Seek not thy honour here； Waive9 pleasure and renown10； The world's dread11 scoff12 undaunted bear, And face its deadliest frown.
To labour and to love, To pardon and endure, To lift thy heart to God above, And keep thy conscience pure；
Be this thy constant aim, Thy hope, thy chief delight； What matter who should whisper blame Or who should scorn or slight？
What matter, if thy God approve, And if, within thy breast, Thou feel the comfort of His love, The earnest of His rest？
