Why toil we so in the darksome night,
While winds and tempests toss the sea?
We labor with care and with human might,
Trusting alone to our own short sight;
Why labor we so anxiously?
Consider the lilies how they grow,
Happily nodding the live-long day,
They toil not, they spin not, nor trouble know,
Sweet perfumes rise wherever they grow,
And how much better are we than they!
Behold the fowls of the air, they rise
Above the earth and worldly things.
Sweet songs come back from the azure skies,
The fowl of the air sings while he flies,
Can we not, too, while we labor, sing?
My brother, my sister, rejoice while you go,
It will lighten your burden though heavy it seems;
When night comes on and the shadows grow,
When tempests arise and the mad winds blow.
Love will guide you till morning gleams,
And in the bright morn, on the shores of our sea,
In glistening apparel, behold him stand.
The Saviour is beckoning to you and me:
Our burdens fall and our sorrows flee,
As we hasten to clasp that outstretched hand.
