EN 4793 It May Not Be Our Lot
Rom.14.18
Versi Version 1
1
It may not be our lot to wield
The sickle in the ripened field;
Nor ours to hear, on summer eves,
The reaper’s song among the sheaves.
2
Yet where our duty’s task is wrought
In unison with God’s great thought,
The near and future blend in one,
And whatsoe’er is willed, is done.
3
And ours the grateful service whence
Comes, day by day, the recompense;
The hope, the trust, the purpose stayed,
The fountain, and the noonday shade.
4
And were this lift the utmost span,
The only end and aim of man,
Better the toil of fields like these
Than waking dream and slotfhful ease.
5
But life, though falling like our grain,
Like that revives and springs again;
And, early called, how blest are they
Who wait in heaven, their harvest day!

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