One Woman’s Work

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Mar 14, 1907

One Woman’s Work

“Who having little yet have all.”

A NARROW sphere, how can you call it so? Three pairs of baby eyes look up to mine, And seem the gates through which a light divine Transfigures all my life with tenderest glow.

Because I can not paint with artist skill The changing colors of the sea or sky; Because I can not write of visions high, And move you all with pain or joy at will;

Because to learning’s shrine no gifts I bring, Nor take a foremost stand for woman’s cause; Because I trust unquestioning the laws, That bring us snow in winter, birds in spring,

You think my life is circumscribed and cold In what would make it helpful, rich, and strong. Ah, friends! these happy days are none too long For all the loving duties that they hold.

Nor has the heart you love been all denied, For loveliest pictures every day I see In childhood’s careless grace and movements free, From waking morn till dreamy eventide.

My Edith’s braids, now brown, now golden bright, Imprison tints no artist’s brush has known: The baby’s deep-blue eyes, that meet my own, In living beauty mock all painted light.

And in reforms we are not learning late A still, small voice need not be all in vain; These childish hands may bring the greatest gain If I am willing now to simply wait.

And in what science or philosophy Can pass in interest the baby heart Seeking in untried ways to take its part For good or ill in life’s great mystery?

God help us mothers all to live aright, And may our homes all truth and love enfold, Since life for us no loftier aims can hold Than leading little children to the light.

— Selected.