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NOT WORK, BUT WORRY

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Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jul 23, 1902

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 28, No. 30.

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NOT WORK, BUT WORRY

By Inez May Felt

It is not the work, but the worry, That wrinkles the smooth, fair face; That blends gray hair with the dusky And robs the form of its grace; That dims the luster and sparkle Of eyes that were once so bright, But now are heavy and troubled, With a weary, despondent light.
It is not the work, but the worry, That drives all sleep away, As we toss and turn and wonder About the cares of the day. Do we think of the hand's hard labor, Or the steps of the tired feet? Ah no! but we plan and ponder How to make both ends meet.
It is not the work, but the worry, That makes us troubled and sad, That makes us narrow and sordid When we should be cheery and glad. There's a shadow before the sunlight, And ever a cloud in the blue, The scent of the rose is tainted, The notes of the song are untrue.
It is not the work, but the worry, That makes the world grow old, That numbers the years of its children Ere half their story is told; That weakens their faith in heaven And the wisdom of God's great plan. Ah! 'tis not the work, but the worry, That breaks the heart of man. —Inez May Felt.