GIVE ME SOME WORK TO DO.
By M. A. Davis
In the wide harvest field, O Heavenly Father,
Give me some work to do for thee, I pray;
Although I may not stand among the reapers,
I'd glean the handfuls scattered by the way,
Or e'en a cup of cooling water bear
To cheer some fainting, weary toiler here. I know thou needest not my humble service,
Before thy throne myriads of angels bow;
But Jesus died for me and all unworthy,
I come to thee; O Lord, accept me now.
The day is spent; the evening shadows fall;
Some tribute I would offer howe'er small. For how shall I behold in glory shining
That form that once was agonized for me,
Once crowned with thorns and marred with cruel
scourging?
How, in his hands and feet the nail-prints see?
I cannot, by a life of selfish ease,
Share blessings won through sufferings like these. O eager spirit, thou hast passed unheeded
The work thy Father did to thee confide,
Go, feed the hungry, cheer the heart of sorrow,
And lead the wanderer to the Crucified.
Behold, these wait for thee on every side;
Delay no longer; for the field is wide. To scatter seeds of truth be thy endeavor,
Sow them in prayer and water with thy tears;
Falter thou not, for in the bright forever,
The ripened sheaves shall crown the toiler's years.
Work on in faith until the Master come,
And thou shalt share the joyful harvest-home. The time is short; already does the dawning
Light up the hill-tops with its golden ray—
The eventide of earth, the glorious morning
Which ushers in the glad, eternal day.
Press on with courage then, the end is nigh;
Ye weary ones, “there’s resting by-and-by.”