On to the goal, friends, on! Glory awaits you there; Crowns for the victor's brow And robes that the conquerors wear. Thrones for the souls of might, Harps for the sons of song. Welcome from heaven's own King And greetings from heaven's bright throng. chorus: On to the goal friends, on to the goal! Glory awaits you there. Crowns for the victor's brown And robes that the conquerors wear. On! for the hour has come, When ye the race must run Or see life's day decline With life's great work undone. Hark! for the Master calls Bright o'er your path has shone Sunlight of his own smile, Then, on to the goal, friends, on. (chorus) Lay off each cumbrous weight, Leave every darling sin, He must be free as air Who yonder wreath would win. Jesus awaits you there Waits but to bind the crown 'Round every victor's brow. Then, on to the goal, friends, on! (chorus)