"Man is not made to till the soil,"*
But to express God's finished plan;
'T is not God's will that he should toil,—
Dominion is God's gift to man.
Look up! the fields with grain are white,
Prepared by Love—were never bare.
Reflect God's work, O child of light!
No darkness ends this harvest rare.
'T is mortal sense that tills and toils
In agony of fear and greed,
And unrequited sadly moils,
Nor ever meets the human need.
In vain we till the soil of self;
All unproductive it remains;
This barren soil may yield its pelf,—
'T is ever loss, its vaunted gains.
Then turn from matter to the source
Of all true being, and be free
From errors thrall! You have recourse
To all of good,—just grateful be.
Your thinking blend with that of God,
Your acts be guided by His will.
Your harvest is not of the sod;
Reflect His plan—man does not till.
*Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy (pp. 517, 518).
