Strike The Chords Softly

Strike the chords softly with tremulous fingers, While, on the threshold of happiest years, For a brief moment fond memory lingers, Ere we go forth to life's conflicts and fears!

Strike the chords softly!--yet no, as we tarry, Swiftly the morning is gliding away; Weary ones droop 'neath the burdens they carry, Toiling ones faint in the heat of the day.

Let us not linger!--Earth's millions are crying "Come to us, aid us, we grope in the night! Come to us, aid us, we're perishing, dying-- Give us, oh, give us, the heavenly Light!"

Let us not linger!--our brethren are calling,-- "Aid us, the harvest increases each day;-- Some have grown weary, alas, of their toiling!-- Others have passed from their labors away."

Gracious Redeemer we go at thy bidding, Gladly encountering peril and loss; Take us--ourselves to thy work we are giving, Give us--'tis more than we merit--thy cross!