Idlers all day about the market-place
They name us, and our dumb lips answer not,
Bearing the bitter while our sloth's disgrace,
And our dark tasking whereof none may wot.
Oh, the fair slopes where the grape-gatherers go!--
Not they the day's fierce heat and burden bear,
But we who on the market-stones drop slow
Our barren tears, while all the bright hours wear.
Lord of the vineyard, whose dear word declares
Our one hour's labor as the day's shall be,
What coin divine can make our wage as theirs
Who had the morning joy of work for Thee?
--L. Gray Noble.
"THY LABOR IS NOT IN VAIN"
"I have labored in vain," a preacher said,
And his brow was marked with care;
"I have labored in vain." He bowed down his head,
And bitter and sad were the tears he shed
In that moment of dark despair.
"I am weary and worn, and my hands are weak,
And my courage is well-nigh gone;
For none give heed to the words I speak,
And in vain for a promise of fruit I seek
Where the seed of the Word is sown."
And again with a sorrowful heart he wept,
For his spirit with grief was stirred,
Till the night grew dark, and at last he slept,
And a silent calm o'er his spirit crept,
And a whisper of "peace" was heard.
And he thought in his dream that his soul took flight
To a blessed and bright abode;
He saw a throne of dazzling light,
And harps were ringing, and robes were white--
Made white in a Saviour's blood.
And he saw such a countless throng around
As he never had seen before,
Their brows with jewels of light were crowned,
And sorrow and sighing no place had found--
The troubles of time were o'er.
Then a white-robed maiden came forth and said,
"Joy! Joy! for the trials are passed!
I am one that thy gentle words have led
In the narrow pathway of life to tread--
I welcome thee home at last!"
And the preacher gazed on the maiden's face--
He had seen that face on earth,
Where, with anxious heart, in his wonted place
He had told his charge of a Saviour's grace,
And their need of a second birth.
Then the preacher smiled, and the angel said,
"Go forth to thy work again;
It is not in vain that the seed is shed--
If only ONE soul to the cross is led,
Thy labor is not in vain."
And at last he woke, and his knee he bent
In grateful, childlike prayer,
And he prayed till an answer of peace was sent,
And Faith and Hope as a rainbow bent
O'er the clouds of his earthly care.
And he rose in joy, and his eye was bright.
His sorrow and grief had fled,
And his soul was calm and his heart was light,
For his hands were strong in his Saviour's might
As forth to his work he sped.
Whatever dies, or is forgot--
Work done for God, it dieth not.