GIVE ME SOME WORK TO DO.
By Amy A. Headley
Give me some work to do! the reapers soon
Will come rejoicing, bringing home their sheaves,
And I, of all their number, I alone
Have naught to offer but these withered leaves;
With shame and penitence I turn to Thee
And pardon crave—O Master! pity me. The name of servant I unworthy bear;
A servant should his master's work pursue,
But I have loitered in the gardens fair
And to my task been faithless and untrue;
The cool, refreshing morn, and the rich noon
I've idled all away, and eve comes soon. Others I've seen go forth unto their toil
With willing step, and steady, patient hand,
Scattering the golden grain upon the soil
Which soon shall yield its harvest full and grand;
But I, O Lord; what shall I say to thee?
For my weak indolence I have no plea. When the sun shone and skies with hope were blue,
And flowers breathed their fragrance all around,
When affluence smiled on me, and friends were true,
And my vain heart with love's bright chain was bound,
I would not toil, and from the field withdrew—
But now I cry, give me some work to do! Now, when the spring is past, and summer's gone,
And autumn, sear and gray, with frosty hand,
Smites low each flow'ret fair, and friends have flown,
And I can call to me no loving band
To shield me from the storm of pain and woe—
Now, Lord, I cry, Give me some work to do! Give me some work to do! I know that Thou
Who watchest o'er the humble sparrow's fall
Wilt from thy throne of light and glory bow
To answer lovingly whenever I call;
Then let me glean for thee at least one sheaf,
Ere winter brings the laborers relief.
—Amy A. Headley.