The day is short, the labor long, the workers are idle, and reward is great, and the Master is urgent.

The day is short, the labor long, the workers are idle, and reward is great, and the Master is urgent.

Do your work with your whole heart, and you will succeed - there's so little competition.

Do your work with your whole heart, and you will succeed - there's so little competition.

The best verse hasn't been rhymed yet,
The best house hasn't been planned,
The highest peak hasn't read more

The best verse hasn't been rhymed yet,
The best house hasn't been planned,
The highest peak hasn't been climbed yet,
The mightiest rivers aren't spanned;
Don't worry and fret, faint-hearted,
The chances have just begun
For the best jobs haven't been started,
The best work hasn't been done.

Ther n' is no werkman whatever he be,
That may both werken wel and hastily.
This wol read more

Ther n' is no werkman whatever he be,
That may both werken wel and hastily.
This wol be done at leisure parfitly.

The Lord had a job for me, but I had so much to do,
I said, "You get somebody read more

The Lord had a job for me, but I had so much to do,
I said, "You get somebody else--or wait till I get through."
I don't know how the Lord came out, but He seemed to get along:
But I felt kinda sneakin' like, 'cause I know'd I done Him wrong.
One day I needed the Lord--Needed Him myself--needed Him right
away,
And He never answered me at all, but I could hear Him say
Down in my accusin' heart, "Nigger, I'se got too much to do,
You get somebody else or wait till I get through."

Plough deep while sluggards sleep.

Plough deep while sluggards sleep.

The uselessness of men above sixty years of age and the
incalculable benefit it would be in commercial, in read more

The uselessness of men above sixty years of age and the
incalculable benefit it would be in commercial, in political, and
in professional life, if as a matter of course, men stopped work
at this age.

But when dread Sloth, the Mother of Doom, steals in,
And reigns where Labour's glory was to serve,
read more

But when dread Sloth, the Mother of Doom, steals in,
And reigns where Labour's glory was to serve,
Then is the day of crumbling not far off.

By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out read more

By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out sight,
Producing what? A pair of slippers, sir,
To put on when you're weary--or a stool
To tumble over and vex you . . . curse that stool!
Or else at best, a cushion where you lean
And sleep, and dream of something we are not,
But would be for your sake. Alas, alas!
This hurts most, this . . . that, after all, we are paid
The worth of our work, perhaps.