“I have labored in vain,” a teacher said,
And her brow was marked by care;
“I have labored in vain.” She bowed her head,
And bitter and sad were the tears she shed,
In that moment of dark despair.
“I am weary and worn, and my hands are weak,
And my courage is well-nigh gone;
For none give heed to the words I speak,
And in vain for a promise of fruit I seek,
Where the seed of the Word is sown.”
As she slept, in her dream her soul took flight
To a blessed and bright abode;
She saw a throne of dazzling light,
And harps were ringing, and robes were white,
Made pure in a Saviour’s blood.
Then a white-robed maiden came forth and said,
“Joy! joy! for thy trials are past!
I am one that thy gentle words have led
In the narrow pathway of life to tread—
I welcome thee home at last!”
And the teacher gazed on the maiden’s face;
She had seen that face on earth,
When, with anxious heart, in her wonted place,
She had told her charge of a Saviour’s grace,
And their need of a second birth.
Then the teacher smiled, and an angel said,
“Go forth to thy work again;
It is not in vain that the seed is spread;
If only one soul to the Cross is led,
Thy labor is not in vain.”
And at last she awoke, and her knee she bent
In grateful, child-like prayer;
And she prayed till an answer of peace was sent,
And faith and hope as a rainbow blent
O’er the clouds of her earthly care.
Thus rise, fellow-teacher; to labor go!
Wide scatter the precious grain;
Though the fruit may never be seen below,
Be sure that the seed of the Word shall grow;
Toil on in faith, and thou soon shalt know
“Thy labor is not in vain!”