LABOR by Anonymous

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Apr 14, 1898

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 24, No. 15.

LABOR

By Anonymous

Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us, Rest from all petty vexations that meet us, Rest from sin promptings that ever entreat us, Rest from world sirens that lure us to ill. Work, and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow; Work, thou shalt ride over care’s coming billow; Lie down not wearied ’neath wo’s weeping willow; Work with a stout heart and resolute will.

Labor is life! ’tis the still water faileth; Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth; Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth; Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glory! the flying cloud lightens, Only the waving wing changes and brightens; Idle hearts only the dark future frightens. Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune!

Labor is health! Lo, the husbandman reaping, How through his veins goes the life-current leaping! How his strong arm in its stalwart pride sweeping, True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides! Labor is wealth,—in the sea the pearl groweth; Rich the queen’s robe from the frail cocoon floweth; From the small acorn the strong forest bloweth; Temple and statue the marble block hides.

Droop not, tho shame, sin, and anguish are round thee! Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee! Look to the pure heaven smiling beyond thee. Rest not content in thy darkness,—a clod. Work for some good, be it ever so slowly; Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; Labor; all labor is noble and holy; Let thy great deed be thy prayer to thy God.

—Anonymous.