Work

Down and up and up and down,— Over and over and over,— Turn in the little seed, dry and brown, Turn out the bright red clover! Work, and the sun your work will share, And the rain in its time will fall, For Nature, she worketh everywhere, And the grace of God through all.

With hand on the spade and heart in the sky, Dress the ground and till it; Turn in the little seed, brown and dry, Turn out the golden millet; Work, and your house shall be duly fed, Work, and rest shall be won; I hold that a man had better be dead Than alive, when his work is done!

Down and up and up and down, On the hill-top, low in the valley; Turn in the little seed, dry and brown, Turn out the rose and the lily. Work with a plan, or without a plan, And your ends they shall be shaped true; Work, and learn at first-hand, like a man, The best way to know is to do!

Down and up till life shall close, Ceasing not your praises; Turn in the wild, white, winter snows, Turn out the sweet, spring daisies. Work, and the sun your work will share, And the rain in its time will fall, For Nature, she worketh everywhere, And the grace of God through all.