MY WORK | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jun 23, 1881

MY WORK.

I COULD not do the work the reapers did, Or bind the golden sheaves that thickly fell; But I could follow by my Master's side, And watch the marred face I loved so well. Right in my path lay many a ripened ear, Which I would stop and gather joyfully— I did not know the Master placed them there— "Handfuls of purpose" that he left for me.

I could not cast the heavy fisher net; I had not strength or wisdom for the task; So on the sun-lit sands, with spray-drops wet, I sat, and earnest prayers rose thick and fast. I pleaded for the Master's blessing where My brethren toiled upon the wide world sea; Or ever that I knew his smile so fair Came shedding all its radiancy on me.

I could not join the glorious soldier band, I never heard the ringing battle-cry; The work allotted by the Master's hand Kept me at home, while others went to die. And yet, when victory crowned the struggle long, And spoils were homeward brought both rich and rare, He let me help to chant the triumph song, And bade me in the gold and jewels share.

O Master dear, the tiniest work for thee Finds recompense beyond our highest thought; And feeble hands that work but tremblingly, The richest colors in the fabric wrought. We are content to take what thou shalt give, To work or suffer as thy choice shall be; Forsaking what thy wisdom bids us leave, Glad in the thought that we are pleasing thee!

—Selected.