The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith ... Revised by the Author: Coll. ed. |
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[Bid me not look in heaven for only rest] |
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 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
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[Bid me not look in heaven for only rest]
“My Father worketh hitherto, and I
work.”—John v. 17.
Bid me not look in heaven for only rest,
Well-earned because the battle has been won.
My fight has been a poor one at the best,
And now I trust to have it better done
Where never sets the sun.
Well-earned because the battle has been won.
My fight has been a poor one at the best,
And now I trust to have it better done
Where never sets the sun.
What need of rest, except to be refreshed
For further work, and carry on our task,
No more with sin enfeebled and enmeshed?
Eternal idleness I do not ask,
Nor in such bliss could bask.
For further work, and carry on our task,
No more with sin enfeebled and enmeshed?
Eternal idleness I do not ask,
Nor in such bliss could bask.
So many failures I have made on earth,
So many hours have wasted of my day,
So little gained of true abiding worth,
So oft have erred, and gone so far astray
From the one Living Way!
So many hours have wasted of my day,
So little gained of true abiding worth,
So oft have erred, and gone so far astray
From the one Living Way!
Oh to redeem the time that I have lost,
To right whatever wrong I may have done,
To publish peace unto the tempest-tossed,
To bring back hope to some despairing one,
Until there shall be none!
To right whatever wrong I may have done,
To publish peace unto the tempest-tossed,
To bring back hope to some despairing one,
Until there shall be none!
Who knows? The Father worketh hitherto,
And Christ, whom I would serve in love and fear,
Went not away to rest Him, but to do
What could be better done in heaven than here,
And bring to all good cheer.
And Christ, whom I would serve in love and fear,
Went not away to rest Him, but to do
What could be better done in heaven than here,
And bring to all good cheer.
And I would work with Him whose mercy lasts
For ever, and His love is everywhere,
Who preached to spirits in prison, and daily casts
His nets where souls are sinking in despair:
My heaven were with Him there.
For ever, and His love is everywhere,
Who preached to spirits in prison, and daily casts
His nets where souls are sinking in despair:
My heaven were with Him there.
Perchance, in that new life we shall be born
Children at first, and have to slowly grow,
And its unfathomable wonders learn,
Like children, singing gladly as we go
Where living waters flow.
Children at first, and have to slowly grow,
And its unfathomable wonders learn,
Like children, singing gladly as we go
Where living waters flow.
Yet must we come to manhood's better hour,
And have our work appointed us to do,
And do it with more heart, and hope, and power,
And fresh as with eternal morning dew
That doth our life renew.
And have our work appointed us to do,
And do it with more heart, and hope, and power,
And fresh as with eternal morning dew
That doth our life renew.
At any rate, to sit with folded palms
On listless thrones, with crowns of shining gold,
Or touch the harp unto the voice of psalms,
With hearts that are to sinners hard and cold,
Is not the hope I hold.
On listless thrones, with crowns of shining gold,
Or touch the harp unto the voice of psalms,
With hearts that are to sinners hard and cold,
Is not the hope I hold.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |