Press forward, press forward,
Press forward to the prize;
While life’s bright morn, with rosy hue,
Bedecks the flowers that bathed with dew,
Salute thy waking eyes,
Press forward to the prize.

Refrain

Forward, forward,
Press forward to the prize.
Forward, forward,
Press forward to the prize.

Press forward, press forward,
Press forward to the prize;
When in the noon of life thy heart
From Heav’n’s high calling would depart,
And doubts and fears arise,
Press forward to the prize.

Refrain

Press forward, press forward,
Press forward to the prize;
When morn and noon of life are past,
And evening shadows lengthen fast,
And swift the daylight flies,
Press forward to the prize.

Refrain

Press forward, press forward,
Press forward to the prize;
Though sweet the songs we sing below,
A richer prize will Heav’n bestow,
And there our treasure lies,
Press forward to the prize.

Refrain