Plenty of Time by Margaret E. Sangster

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Nov 19, 1912

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 39, No. 45.

Plenty of Time

By Margaret E. Sangster

I hear you complaining, dearest, You have ever too much to do; Your temper is worn with trying To make old things look like new. You sew for the little children, You mend for the rollicking boys, You were never a shirk, and you always work Till your life is shorn of joys.

If the day were longer, dearest! If you never need go to bed! But the time goes racing by you Till the hurrying week has sped; And your basket's overflowing, And your tasks are never done. Poor, weary friend, will they never end, Till the sleep of death is won?

It's time you are needing, dearest! Ah, yes! but there's time to spare If you'd let our Father carry One end of your load of care; If you'd tell Him all your trouble, And ask from His tender hand The gift of His peace, your pain would cease; His way you would understand.

There is time for loving, dearest, If we take the time there is, And fill that up with sweetness, Whatever beyond we miss; Let the little frocks be plainer, Let the dust alone for a while; Let the goodman see how blithe can be His home in your tender smile. —Margaret E. Sangster.