WHEN I sit and think of heaven so beautiful and dear,
Think of the sweet peace reigning there and the contentions here,
Think of the safe, sure justice beside the earthly wrong,
And set our ringing discords against celestial song,
And all the full securities beside “O Lord, how long?”
Oh, then I long to be there, and in my heart I pray,
“Lord, open thou the pearly gates, and let me in to-day.”
And then I turn to earth again, and in my thoughts I see
The small, unnoted corner given in charge to me,
The work that needs be done there which no one else will do,
The briars that rend, the tares that spring, the heartease choked
with rue,
The plants that must be trained and set to catch the sun and dew;
And there seems so much to do there, that in my heart I pray,
“Lord, shut thy gate, and call me not, and let me work to-day.”