George McKnight (1840–1897)

LOOK, soul, how swiftly all things onward tend!

Such universal haste betokens need

In Destiny’s design of pressing speed.

Speed thou, stay not until thou reach the end!

Upon the haste of Time there may depend

Some far-off good. Thou child of Time, give heed

That with a willing heart and ready deed

To Time’s great haste thy dole of speed thou lend!

Though beauteous scenes thy onward steps would stay,

Press forward toward the Goal that beckons thee—

The unimagined possibility

Of all the mighty future to assay!

And when thou drawest near thy hour to die,

Rejoice that one accomplishment is nigh.