Why toil we so in
the darksome night,
While winds and tempests toss the sea?
We labor with care
and with human might,
Trusting alone to
our own short sight;
Why labor we so anxiously?
Consider the lilies
how they grow,
Happily nodding the live-long day,
They toil not, they
spin not, nor trouble know,
Sweet perfumes rise
wherever they grow,
And how much better are we than they!
Behold the fowls of
the air, they rise
Above the earth and worldly things,
Sweet songs come
back from the azure skies,
The fowl of the air
sings while he flies,
Can we not, too, while we labor, sing?
My brother, my
sister, rejoice while you go,
It will lighten your burden though heavy it
seems;
When night comes on
and the shadows grow,
When tempests arise
and the mad winds blow,
Love will guide you till morning gleams.
And in the bright
morn, on the shores of our sea,
In glistening apparel, behold him stand.
The Saviour is
beckoning to you and me;
Our burdens fall and
our sorrows flee,
As we hasten to clasp that outstretched hand.