Be thy best thoughts to work divine addressed;
Do something — do it soon — will all thy might;
An angel's wing would droop if long at rest,
And God Himself inactive were no longer blessed.

Work, and thou wilt bless the day
Ere the toil be done;
They that work not, can not pray,
Can not feel the sun.
God is living, working still,
All things work and move;
Work, or lose the power to will,
Lose the power to love.

In the morning, when thou art sluggish at rousing thee, let this thought be present; “I am rising to a man’s work.”

Let us, then, be up and doing.
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Let us, then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.

There’s no time, no time!
There’s no time to rest!
When suddenly death is upon
you, what will you do?
Now you’d better start practicing
the sublime Dharma right away;
Now, quick, hurry-recite the six-syllable mantra.

Awake, my soul! stretch every nerve,
And press with vigour on;
A heavenly race demands thy zeal, And an immortal crown.

Make sure that you don’t get so absorbed and exhausted in taking care of all your day-by-day obligations that you lose track of the time and doze off, oblivious to God. The night is about over, dawn is about to break. Be up and awake to what God is doing! God is putting the finishing touches on the salvation work he began when we first believed. We can’t afford to waste a minute, must not squander these precious daylight hours in frivolity and indulgence, in sleeping around and dissipation, in bickering and grabbing everything in sight. Get out of bed and get dressed! Don’t loiter and linger, waiting until the very last minute. Dress yourselves in Christ, and be up and about! ROMANS 13:11 – 14 MSG

To-day, let us rise and go to our work. To-morrow, we shall rise and go to our reward.

Arise, awake, stop not till the goal is reached.

soon you’ll see that it’s the work — not the clock — that matters.

Live, work, act. Don’t sit here and brood.

Awake! arise! the hour is late!
Angels are knocking at thy door!
They are in haste and cannot wait,
And once departed come no more.
Awake! arise! the athlete's arm
Loses its strength by too much rest;
The fallow land, the untilled farm
Produces only weeds at best.

Arise, awake and Stop not till the Goal is Reached.