Classic Poem

When all my long and weary work is done
(Toiling both soon and late, by candle-light,
Sewing and sewing while my eyes can see)
I lay my glasses by and watch the walls —
The plaster off in patches, stained with smoke —
Melt as a hoary mist and flee away.
Then through the splendour of the evening skies,
Along its star-lit paths, past pearl-white clouds
I hasten till I reach the region where
God's holy city like a virgin keeps
Its spotless tryst, forever night and day.
I do not linger here, but take my way
To Him who sits among the Seraphim;
And He who knows I am a poor old wife,
With naught of wit or wealth that I can bring,
And that my hands are hardened by my toil —
Sees that 'tis I that need Him most of all.
Yea, God will have the music hushed (for I
Am growing somewhat deaf) and we will talk
Of many things, as friend may talk with friend.

Ah, I have looked, end in the dear Lord's face
(More lined with care than any earthly man's)
Seen that He suffers too, and understands
How hard and late I work to keep the wolf
Outside my door, and bring my children up
To serve Him always, and to keep them clean
In body, heart and mind....
At the sun's call,
Working with all my strength from early dawn,
Through the long day, and then by candle-light
Sewing on buttons while my eyes can see,
I know the glory of God's gracious face,
And at His touch my weary hands grow strong,
Hearing His voice my heart is glad and gay.