Our Master toiled, a carpenter Of busy Galilee; He knew the weight of ardent tasks And ofttimes, wearily, He sought, apart, in earnest prayer For strength, beneath his load of care. He took a manly share of work, No thoughtless shirker he. From dawn to dusk, before his bench, He labored faithfully. He felt just pride in work well done And found rest sweet, at setting sun. His Father worked, and he rejoiced That honest toil was his— To whom was given grace to know Divinest mysteries: And shall not we find toiling good Who serve in labor's brotherhood? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: ANTON SOSNOWSKI by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WILLIAM JONES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 4. THE MORAL by KAREN SWENSON ON DEATH, WITHOUT EXAGGERATION by WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA JEWISH LULLABY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A MOTHER TO HER WAKING INFANT by JOANNA BAILLIE |