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THE SONG OF LABOR

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Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jan 22, 1902

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 28, No. 4.

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THE SONG OF LABOR.

[Labor is not the curse; it is one of God's means of triumphing over the curse. Ed. S. of T.]
Work, work, work, In meadow and mill and mart; Work, work, work, Till the dews of labor start; Where the sailors launch their ships, And plow the waves apart, Work with a song on the lips, And work with a prayer in the heart.
Let the dreamer lie at ease, And gaze at the bright blue sky, Lulled by the murmuring bees, As the summer winds go by. Tho the skies be cold and gray, Be this thy heart's content, That thine is the sweeter day In useful labor spent.
Better to delve all day With the blessing of peace at night, Than to fritter the time away, With fingers idle and white. For labor is God's good gift, Tho it be the curse of the fall; And the hands that struggle and lift Are the noblest hands of all.
—Youth's Companion.