His Day of Rest by S. E. Kiser

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D.C. · Jul 11, 1907

His Day of Rest

By S. E. Kiser

He never had time to rest, and he never had time to play; When a man should be at his best, he was old and wrinkled and gray; He never had time to care how others were getting along, He never had time to share the joy of the singer's song.

He labored early and late, rudely pushing ahead; Pleasure, he thought, could wait; he would seek it some day, he said. Deaf to the cries of those who struggled in vain below, He heaped new woe on their woes, permitting his greed to grow.

He never had time to pause for the purpose of giving praise; He craved no public applause, nor hunted for peaceful ways; He never had time to waste on the song that the lover sings, He never had time to taste the sweetness that kindness brings.

He hurried early and late, roughly pushing ahead; Pleasure, he thought, could wait; he would seek it some day, he said; Old and wrinkled and gray when a man should be at his best, He died on the dismal day when he meant to begin his rest.

— S. E. Kiser.