WORK, THE TRUE WISDOM
When Frederick Temple, the late Archbishop of Canterbury, was a poor boy, wearing patched clothes and patched shoes, he had the good fortune to have a wise mother who stimulated and encouraged the right kind of ambition, and directed his zeal. One day the boy waxed critical over the inconsistency of English spelling, when his mother chided him gently: “Freddie, don’t argue; do your work.” The lesson was not lost on his open mind. He followed the sage advice. And long years after, when as primate of all England he had arisen to a position scarcely second to any in dignity and influence in the land, he acted on his mother’s counsel: “Don’t argue, do your work.”
(3505)
WORK TRANSFORMED
As the water drops of the storm-clouds are transfigured by the sunlight into rainbows, so the lowliest work is transfigured by thoughts of God shining through it. So it was with the old negro washerwoman who sang, as she climbed the stairs wearily at night after her hardest day, “One more day’s work for Jesus.” So it was with the Christian child in the mission Sunday-school, who was asked, “What are you doing for Jesus?” and replied, “I scrubs.”
(3506)
WORK VERSUS WORKER
James Buckham is the author of this poem:
“What hast thou wrought?” is the world’s demand.
Where is thy product of brain or hand?