Page:Poems Kimball.djvu/55

The world is just ad full of woe,
For sin in hand with grief must go;
But now the world seems distant grown,
And I unheeded and alone.

Ah! now Thou dost Thy will reveal
To interrupt my restless zeal,
That I in solitude may heed
My own, my all-surpassing need.

"Much serving" often hinders love,
And care forgetfulness may prove;
The busy hand may cheat the heart
That else might choose the better part.

Who waits in holy idleness
Can never learn to serve Thee less,
But rather learns how poor, how vain,
Is all he hath accounted gain.

Strive as I may, my every toil
Some lurking vanity will spoil;
Self-love doth ever enter in
To steal what I for Thee may win.

Then give me, Lord, no work to-day,
But give what none can take away,—
The portion everymore most sweet,
To sit like Mary at Thy feet.