THE LORD’S GARDEN.
(LOVINGLY INSCRIBED TO THE A. M. A. WORKERS IN THE SOUTH.)
A few days’ work In His garden,
The dear Lord gave me to do;
And I went to my task so gladly,
I thought ’twould be something new—
Some dainty task ’mong the flowers,
That would show my skill and taste.
Alas! I sat down in sorrow,
To weep at the woeful waste.
For He sent me to a corner.
Where never a flower could bloom;
A tangled thicket of tall, rank weeds,
As damp and dark as a tomb.
But I said, “The dear Lord sent me.”
So in tears the task begun,
Clearing the weeds and rubbish away,
From morning till set of sun.
Far away I heard the voices
Of fellow-servants so gay.
As they worked in bands together,
While I wrought alone all day,
Tearing my hands with the thistles,
With heart so heavy and sad,
And never a flower to cheer me,
Or a song to make me glad.
But slowly the task grew lighter,
As I cleared the rubbish away,
And the soft brown earth lay open
To the light and warmth of day.
The Master came down at nightfall,
And gave me a smile so sweet,
I knew He was pleased with the service,
Though so rough and incomplete.
For He said, “Dear heart, be patient!
I bring you some seeds to sow
In the soft soil, and you may watch
To see that they thrive and grow.”
So my heart grew light and gladsome,
For the corner dark and wild.
Where I’d wrought in tears and sadness,
In growing loveliness smiled.
I watched and tended my corner,
I gave it most faithful care,
Pruning, training the tender plants
Till they bloomed with fragrance rare.
The Master came to His garden
Again, at set of the sun,
And I ran with joy to meet Him,
For He said, “Dear child, well done!
“For this dark, benighted corner
Was a grievous sight to see.
What you have wrought in toil and pain
Was a blessed work for me.”
Forgotten was all the sorrow,
Forgotten the lonely hours,
As I stood beside the Master
Who smiled upon the flowers.
Sept. 25th, 1883.