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.