—Margaret Elizabeth Sangster.
———
The day is long and the day is hard;
We are tired of the march and of keeping guard;
Tired of the sense of a fight to be won,
Of days to live through, and of work to be done;
Tired of ourselves and of being alone.
And all the while, did we only see,
We walk in the Lord's own company;
We fight, but 'tis he who nerves our arm;