p. 39 | The Work of our Hands by Vara

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jan 26, 1882

The Work of our Hands

By Vara

“The Work of our Hands.”

“THE work of our hands establish thou it.” I read the words over again going back a little. “Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us, and the work of our hands, establish thou it.”

“The work of my hands day by day,” I said almost scornfully, as I thought of the homely work my hands had to do, the cooking, the house-work, the patching, the mending, the rough, hard work, I sometimes had to put them to. And I smiled as I thought of such work being established forever. I smiled again almost bitterly as I thought, “It is established that my hands must work—if not forever, for all my earthly time.”

“Please comb my hair now, mamma; the first bell is ringing,” and Nedd ie tapped my hand with his comb.

I patted and smoothed my boy’s tangled locks. “The work of my hands,” I said, and perhaps more gently than usual turned up my boys face to kiss his lips as he went out to school. I turned to the sitting room, drew up the shades in the bay window, so my few geraniums might have all the sun’s rays they could, shook down the coal in the stove, dusted the chairs, straightened out the table cover and books, and brushed the shreds from the carpet, sighing a little over the thin places that the best arrangement of mats could not quite cover. The rooms looked neat and tidy. “The work of my hands,” I repeated, mechanically. Just then the sun shone out bright. It lit up my room like a kind smile. “The beauty of the Lord our God,” I repeated, softly.

I went back to my homely work in the kitchen. Patiently I tried to go through my every-day routine of duty. For I said to myself, “If this is always to be the work of my hands, surely I must let the beauty of my Lord ‘rest upon it.'”

“You look very bright to-night, wife,” said Will, when he came in after his days work. “Has it been an easy day?”

I thought of the cooking and ironing, of my tired hands and feet, and smiled as I said, “I had a good text this morning.”—Vara, in Arthur's Home Magazine.