Work

Close by the careless worker's side,
Still patient stands
The Carpenter of Nazareth
With piercèd hands
Outstretched to plead unceasingly,
His Love's demands.
Longing to pick the hammer up
And strike a blow,
Longing to feel His plane swing out,
Steady and slow,
The fragrant shavings falling down
Silent as snow.
Because this is my Work, O Lord,
It must be Thine,
Because it is a human task
It is divine.
Take me, and brand me with Thy Cross,
Thy slave's proud sign.
-- G.A. Studdert Kennedy

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