'The field is white, the laborers are few;
Our Lord's command is also sent to you,'"
My child, it is a sweet and blessed thing
To rest beneath the shadow of my wing;
To feel thy doings and thy words are naught,
To trust to me each restless, longing thought.
"Dear Lord, help me this lesson sweet to learn,
To sit at thy pierced feet and only yearn
To love thee better, Lord, and feel that still
Waiting is working, if it be thy will."