JUST what life holds for us can no one tell;
Unknown to all the path our feet shall tread.
None walks forever on a flower-strewn way,
Earth must be ploughed ere hungry ones are fed.
It cannot be enough that life shall yield
Nothing but flowers—we must ask for more.
No grain waves golden in an untilled field,
‘Tis deep-cut furrows hold the harvest-store.
Then let us pray that from our lives may rise
Riches of love, trust, help, to meet the Master’s eyes.