| |
| OH, it is hard to work for God, | |
| To rise and take his part | |
| Upon this battle-field of earth, | |
| And not sometimes lose heart! | |
| |
| He hides himself so wondrously, | 5 |
| As though there were no God; | |
| He is least seen when all the powers | |
| Of ill are most abroad. | |
| |
| Or he deserts us at the hour | |
| The fight is all but lost; | 10 |
| And seems to leave us to ourselves | |
| Just when we need him most. | |
| |
| Ill masters good; good seems to change | |
| To ill with greatest ease; | |
| And, worst of all, the good with good | 15 |
| Is at cross-purposes. | |
| |
| Ah! God is other than we think; | |
| His ways are far above, | |
| Far beyond reason’s height, and reach’d | |
| Only by childlike love. | 20 |
| |
| Workman of God! Oh, lose not heart, | |
| But learn what God is like; | |
| And in the darkest battle-field | |
| Thou shalt know where to strike. | |
| |
| Thrice bless’d is he to whom is given | 25 |
| The instinct that can tell | |
| That God is on the field when he | |
| Is most invisible. | |
| |
| Bless’d, too, is he who can divine | |
| Where real right doth lie, | 30 |
| And dares to take the side that seems | |
| Wrong to man’s blindfold eye. | |
| |
| For right is right, since God is God; | |
| And right the day must win; | |
| To doubt would be disloyalty, | 35 |
| To falter would be sin. | |
| |
