TOILING early, and toiling late, Though her name was never heard, To the least of her Saviour's little ones, She meekly ministered, -- Publishing good news to the poor; She came to their homes unsought, And her feet on the hills were beautiful, For the blessings which they brought. Such a perfect life as hers, again, In the world we may not see; For her heart was full of love, and her hands Were full of charity. Oh woe for us! cried the weak and poor, And the weary ones made moan; And the mourners went about the streets, When she went to her home alone. And, seeing her go from the field of life, From toiling, early and late, We said, What good has she gained, to show For a sacrifice so great? We might have learned from the husbandman To wait more patiently, Since his seed of wheat lies under the snow, Not quickened, except it die. For when we raised our eyes again From their sorrow's wintry night, We saw how the deeds of good she hid Were pushing up to the light. And still the precious seed she showed, In patient, sorrowing trust, Though not for her mortal eyes to see, Comes blossoming out of the dust. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAN CHRIST by THERESE (KARPER) LINDSEY SHADOWS: 2 by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES HAMPTON BEACH by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SURCEASE by ALICE GARDNER ADAMS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 36. ASH-SHAKIR by EDWIN ARNOLD NEW YORK HARBOR by PARK BENJAMIN TO W.A. AND H.H. ON THEIR DEPARTURE TO EUROPE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |