LABOR.
Pause not to dream of the future before us;
Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o’er us,
Hark! how Creation’s deep musical chorus,
Unintermitting, goes up into Heaven!
Never the ocean-wave falters in flowing,
Never the little seed stops in its growing,
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing,
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.
“Labor is worship!” the robin is singing;
“Labor is worship!” the wild bee is ringing;
Listen! that eloquent whisper unspringing,
Speaks to thy soul from out Nature’s heart.
From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower;
From the rough sod comes the soft-breathing flower;
From the small insect, the rich coral bower;
Only man, in the plan, ever shrinks from his part.
Labor is life!—’Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;
Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth:
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labor is glory!—the flying cloud lightens;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens;
Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune.
Labor is rest—from the sorrows that greet us;
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us.
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us.
Rest from world-sirens that lead us to ill.
Work,—and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;
Work,—thou shalt ride o’er care’s coming billow;
Lie not down wearied ’neath woe’s weeping willow;
Work with a stout heart and resolute will.
Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish are round thee;
Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee;
Look on yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee;
Rest not content in thy darkness,—a clod.
Work for some good,—be it ever so slowly;
Cherish some flower,—be it ever so lowly;
Labor!—all labor is noble and holy;
Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.
