"Nothing to do" in this world of ours,
Where weeds spring up with the fairest flowers,
Where smiles have only a fitful play,
Where hearts are breaking every day?
"Nothing to do?" thou Christian soul,
Wrapping thee round in thy selfish stole,
Off with the garments of sloth and sin;
Christ thy Lord hath a kingdom to win.
"Nothing to do?" there are prayers to lay
On the altar of incense day by day;
There are foes to meet within and without;
There is error to conquer, strong and stout.
"Nothing to do?" there are minds to teach
The simplest forms of Christian speech;
There are hearts to lure with loving wile
From the grimmest haunts of sin's defile.
"Nothing to do?" there are lambs to feed,
The precious hope of the Church's need;
Strength to be borne to the weak and faint,
Vigils to keep with the doubting saint.
"Nothing to do?" there are heights to attain,
Where Christ is transfigured yet again,
Where earth will fade in the vision sweet,
And the soul press on with wingèd feet.
"Nothing to do?" and thy Saviour said,
"Follow thou me in the path I tread."
Lord, lend thy help the journey through,
Lest, faint, we cry, "So much to do!"
--_Unidentified._
When death is drawing near,
And thy heart shrinks in fear,
And thy limbs fail,
Then raise thy hands and pray
To Him who smooths the way
Through the dark vale.
Seest thou the eastern dawn?
Hear'st thou, in the red morn,
The angels' song?
Oh! lift thy drooping head
Thou, who in gloom and dread
Hast lain so long.
Death comes to set thee free,
Oh! meet him cheerily,
As thy true friend;
And all thy fears shall cease,
And in eternal peace,
Thy penance end.
--_From_ "_Sintram._"