I said, " I will be a reaper, and toil with all my might,
For the laborers are few, though the harvest is so white."
So I took my sharpened sickle and sought the ripened grain;
I took in my hand my sickle-God took it out again.

I saw that in fields beyond me the corn was in the blade,
But the weeds were thickly choking. I took my hoe and spade,
And said,"I'll dig for the Master, and how the corn will
grow! "
But the Master came behind me and quickly answered, "No! "

I said, " I will be a sower, and scatter tiny seed:
Sowing is as sweet as reaping, and quite as much a need."
So I took the yellow kernels to drop as I should go-
The Master gathered them again as fast as I could sow.

Then I said, "I know, dear Master, how little is my skill;
It is wise I should not garner and well I should not till;
I will walk behind another, and hold the homely plow."
" I have those to tread the furrow," He answered, " Go not thou."

So I took my burnished sickle and hung it again to rust,
And my hoe and spade and basket, to gather mold and dust;
I left the earthly furrow for another's feet to tread,
And said, " To the hungry reapers I'll carry drink and bread;

For surely no sweeter service I need to ask or seek That to strengthen with refreshment the weary and the weak." I filled my cup at the fountain, I cut my loaf in twain, Looked in the face of the Master and knew it was in vain.

"Oh, Master! " I murmured, weeping, "I may not work for
Thee !
Thou desirest not my service!" He whispered, "Thou shalt see."
Then my arms He gently folded, my feet securely bound,
And laid me down all helpless upon the parched ground.

Then my eyes I closed in silence and hushed my eager breath,
For I thought He had brought me into the dust of death;
But, as I lay in the darkness, anew to me He spoke,
And out of a fervered slumber I dreamily awoke.

And awoke to find beside me a reaper wounded sore,
With never a hand to soothe him or stay the flowing gore;
I drew from my cup of water and laved his burning brow
I staunched the tide of crimson and smiled for service now.

"Child," said the loving Master, " sigh not for the open field,
For here in the lonely shadows rich service canst thou yield "
And all day long till the evening work unto me He brought,
Looked tenderly on my fetters and blessed me as I wrought.

I whispered the word of courage, I sang of hope and cheer,
I told of the Lord's forgiveness, I dried the contrite tear
And many a heavy burden I might not even share
I lifted unto the Master on outstretched arms of prayer

And I think when night has fallen and the harvest all is stored,
There'll be little sheaves in garner, known only to the Lord,
Of the gleanings that He gathered unto a captive's feet;
I think the captive's harvest-joy may be of all most sweet.

(Selected.)