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EVERYDAY WORK

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Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jul 24, 1893

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 19, No. 37.

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EVERYDAY WORK.

GREAT deeds are trumpeted, loud bells are rung, And men turn round to see; The high peaks echo to the pæans sung O'er some great victory; And yet great deeds are few—the mightiest men Find opportunities but now and then.
Shall one sit idle through long days of peace, Waiting for walls to scale? Or lay in port until some "Golden Fleece" Lures him to face the gale? There's work enough; why idly then delay? His work counts most who labors every day.
A torrent sweeps adown the mountain brow With foam and flash and roar; Anon its strength is spent, where is it now? Its one short day is o'er. But the clear stream that through the meadow flows All the long summer on its mission goes.
Better the steady flow; the torrent's dash Soon leaves its rent track dry. The light we love is not the lightning flash From out a midnight sky, But the sweet sunshine, whose unfailing ray, From its calm throne of blue, lights every day.
The sweetest lives are those to duty wed, Whose deeds, both great and small, Are close-knit strands of an unbroken thread, When love ennobles all. The world may sound no trumpets, ring no bells; The book of life the shining record tells. —Christian at Work.