Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By I. “Come, labour on!”Jane Borthwick (1813–1897)
C
Who dares stand idle on the harvest-plain,
While all around him waves the golden grain?
And to each servant does the Master say,
“Go work to-day.”
Claim the high calling angels cannot share,
To young and old the Gospel-gladness bear;
Redeem the time; its hours too swiftly fly,
The night draws nigh.
The enemy is watching night and day,
To sow the tares, to snatch the seed away;
While we in sleep our duty have forgot,
He slumbered not.
Away with gloomy doubts and faithless fear!
No arm so weak but may do service here;
By hands the feeblest can our God fulfil
His righteous will.
No time for rest, till glows the western sky,
While the long shadows o’er our pathway lie,
And a glad sound comes with the setting sun—
“Servants, well done!”
The toil is pleasant, and the harvest sure,
Blessèd are those who to the end endure;—
How full their joy, how deep their rest shall be,
O Lord, with Thee!