What work is thine?
No one of us, in his own single might,
Is sent to set a wandering world aright,
By call divine.
Thy work lies near;
Yea, next thy hand, with pregnant promise stored;
Nearest of all things,—yet too oft ignored,
Because so near.
Then do not shirk.
Act now, and well, and confident in heart—
'Tis thus a man most fitly plays his part—
Thou hast thy work!
