Poem December 17, 1938 Issue

Labor

Jane polson spearin

The man whose hours are filled with loving toil
of hand or mind, some goodness to achieve,

Is well prepared, as is the waiting soil
where meadows the refreshing rains receive.

There is no day but has its firm demand,
which each one knows to be for him alone.

The laborer has always at his hand
the implements which toil has made his own.

And God will bless each effort that is made
to do His will, no matter what the cost.

In joyous labor are foundations laid
which bring rewards of truth. No good is lost

To him whose eager aspirations earn
the benefit of labor's sure return.

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December 17, 1938

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