THE DAY'S WORK by All the Year Round

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 17, 1894

THE DAY'S WORK.

By All the Year Round

Do THY day's work, my dear, Though fast and dark the clouds are drifting near, Though time has little left for hope and very much for fear.

Do thy day's work, though now The hand must falter, and the head must bow, And far above the falling foot shows the bold mountain brow.

Yet there is left for us Who on the valley's verge stand trembling thus, A light that lies far in the West—soft, faint, but luminous.

We can give kindly speech And ready, helping hand to all and each, And patience to the young around by smiling silence teach.

We can give gentle thought, And charity by life's long lesson taught, And wisdom from old faults lived down, by toil and failure wrought.

We can give love, unmarred By selfish snatch of happiness, unjarred By the keen aims of power or joy that make youth cold and hard.

And if gay hearts reject The gifts we hold—would fain fare on, unchecked, On the bright roads that scarcely yield all that young eyes expect,

Why, do thy day's work still; The calm, deep founts of love are slow to chill, And heaven may yet the harvest yield, the work-worn hands to fill.