That comes to hearts that see
How every busy hour's employ
May all be work for Thee.
Whate'er demands my toil, my skill,
My active thought and hand,
It is my Saviour's business still,
And wrought at His command.
Then let me do the daily task
With free and happy speed,
As one who hears His sweet Voice ask
My service for His need.
And let me sing an inward song
To think, with holy pride
In Nazatreth's home how oft, how long,
His working Hands He plied.
For still the Lord, who labour'd thus,
True toil delights to bless;
He lives and moves all day with us
Amid the stir and stress.
And what an hour 'twill be above
When comes the bright reward,
The wages of eternal love
For servants of the Lord!
Bishop H.C.G. Moule
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