Poems (Shipton)/Wayside Watcher
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THE WAYSIDE WATCHER.
'Thou shalt know that I am the Lord; for they shall not be ashamed that wait for Me."—Isa. xlix. 23.
"All day long you sit here idle,
And the Master at the door!
The fields are white to harvest,
And the day is almost o'er.
You are dreaming! you are dreaming!
Time is gliding fast away;
See! the eventide is waning,
Soon shall break eternal day."
And the Master at the door!
The fields are white to harvest,
And the day is almost o'er.
You are dreaming! you are dreaming!
Time is gliding fast away;
See! the eventide is waning,
Soon shall break eternal day."
"Brother, my hand is feeble,
My strength is well-nigh spent:
I saw you all at noon-day,
And I marked the way ye went.
I cried, 'God's blessing on them,
What a favored band they be!
But I'll watch upon the highway,
God may find a work for me.'"
My strength is well-nigh spent:
I saw you all at noon-day,
And I marked the way ye went.
I cried, 'God's blessing on them,
What a favored band they be!
But I'll watch upon the highway,
God may find a work for me.'"
"Yet you tarry, yet you tarry,"
Said the laborer again;
"You may idle on the highway,
And wait all day in vain.
'Tis easy labor—'watching':
On the dusty road we tread
To toil within the vineyard:
Go out and work instead."
Said the laborer again;
"You may idle on the highway,
And wait all day in vain.
'Tis easy labor—'watching':
On the dusty road we tread
To toil within the vineyard:
Go out and work instead."
The watcher smiled and answered,
"My brother, is it so?
Who waiteth on the Master,
The Master's will shall know.
He hath taught me one sweet lesson,
I have learnt it not too late,—
There is service for the feeblest,
Who only stand and wait.
"My brother, is it so?
Who waiteth on the Master,
The Master's will shall know.
He hath taught me one sweet lesson,
I have learnt it not too late,—
There is service for the feeblest,
Who only stand and wait.
"I sat me by the hedge-row,
No burden could I bear,
But 'Oh,' I thought, 'how blessed
In the field to have a share!'
The loving Master whispered,
Through the often lonely day,
'Still wait on Me, thou weak one;
The lame shall take the prey.'
No burden could I bear,
But 'Oh,' I thought, 'how blessed
In the field to have a share!'
The loving Master whispered,
Through the often lonely day,
'Still wait on Me, thou weak one;
The lame shall take the prey.'
"Not long I tarried watching:
A wayfarer drew nigh,
He was weary, sad, and hungry,
For the glowing sun was high;
His foot lagged faint and fainter,
His eyes were downward cast:
That laborer by my lattice
At early morn had passed.
A wayfarer drew nigh,
He was weary, sad, and hungry,
For the glowing sun was high;
His foot lagged faint and fainter,
His eyes were downward cast:
That laborer by my lattice
At early morn had passed.
"I drew him 'neath the trellis
Of the vine's inviting shade,
Down by the soft green pasture
Our Shepherd's love hath made.
I brought him, from the streamlet,
Fresh water for his feet;
I spread the bread before him,
And bade him rest and eat.
Of the vine's inviting shade,
Down by the soft green pasture
Our Shepherd's love hath made.
I brought him, from the streamlet,
Fresh water for his feet;
I spread the bread before him,
And bade him rest and eat.
"He bathed in the bright fountain,
And then, refreshed and strong,
He journeyed on rejoicing,
And rejoiced me by his song.
Where, on the dusty wayside,
The traveller had been,
Stood One, in heavenly beauty,
With more than regal mien.
And then, refreshed and strong,
He journeyed on rejoicing,
And rejoiced me by his song.
Where, on the dusty wayside,
The traveller had been,
Stood One, in heavenly beauty,
With more than regal mien.
"'I thank thee,' said the Stranger,
'For all thy cares afford,
For rest, and food, and welcome,
Beside thy simple board.'
'Nay, Lord,' I said,' what succor
Have I bestowed on Thee?'
'Thy service to my servant
Hath all been done to Me.'
'For all thy cares afford,
For rest, and food, and welcome,
Beside thy simple board.'
'Nay, Lord,' I said,' what succor
Have I bestowed on Thee?'
'Thy service to my servant
Hath all been done to Me.'
"Oh, it was well worth watching
A summer's day alone;
Well worth the weary waiting,
To hear His sweet 'Well done!'
Is it too small a matter?—
That in man's foolish pride,
He scorns one heart to gladden
For which the Saviour died."
A summer's day alone;
Well worth the weary waiting,
To hear His sweet 'Well done!'
Is it too small a matter?—
That in man's foolish pride,
He scorns one heart to gladden
For which the Saviour died."
O ever blessed Master!
Thy field hath need of all,
And better, stronger servants
Stand ready at Thy call;
But Thou hast ne'er forsaken
One waiting by the way:
Still meet me with Thy promise,
That 'the lame shall take the prey.'
Thy field hath need of all,
And better, stronger servants
Stand ready at Thy call;
But Thou hast ne'er forsaken
One waiting by the way:
Still meet me with Thy promise,
That 'the lame shall take the prey.'
"From the tangled thicket near me
I heard a mournful cry:
A little child had wandered
From the sunny path hard by;
His hands were torn with briers,
His hot tears fell like rain;
And he wept, lest he should never
See his father's face again.
I heard a mournful cry:
A little child had wandered
From the sunny path hard by;
His hands were torn with briers,
His hot tears fell like rain;
And he wept, lest he should never
See his father's face again.
"Close to my heart I drew him,
And pointed to the sky;
I showed him how the dark clouds,
So slowly sailing by,
But veiled the bright sun's radiance
From valley and from hill;
For the faithful sun was shining
In all his glory still.
And pointed to the sky;
I showed him how the dark clouds,
So slowly sailing by,
But veiled the bright sun's radiance
From valley and from hill;
For the faithful sun was shining
In all his glory still.
"He ceased to weep, and listened;
I soothed his childish woe;
Then on the way I led him,
And soon beheld him go
Back through the green fields singing:
Sweet was the joyful sound,
That told the father's welcome,
And the little wanderer found.
I soothed his childish woe;
Then on the way I led him,
And soon beheld him go
Back through the green fields singing:
Sweet was the joyful sound,
That told the father's welcome,
And the little wanderer found.
"Then on the highway, near me,
I saw the Stranger stand,
Stranger no more! He guided
The fair child by the hand.
'I thank thee,' said He softly;
'Thou hast not watched in vain:
Behold my child returned
Safe to my arms again!'
I saw the Stranger stand,
Stranger no more! He guided
The fair child by the hand.
'I thank thee,' said He softly;
'Thou hast not watched in vain:
Behold my child returned
Safe to my arms again!'
"What grace is Thine, O Master,
For work so poor and scant!
How glorious is the guerdon
My loving Lord doth grant!
I only saw a nursling
Was wandering astray.
Oh, it is worth cross-bearing
To wait for Thee one day!
For work so poor and scant!
How glorious is the guerdon
My loving Lord doth grant!
I only saw a nursling
Was wandering astray.
Oh, it is worth cross-bearing
To wait for Thee one day!
"Have ye known the shadows darken
Over weary nights of pain,
And hours that seem to lengthen
Till the night comes round again?
The folded hands seem idle:
If folded at His word,
'Tis a holy service rendered
In obedience to the Lord.
Over weary nights of pain,
And hours that seem to lengthen
Till the night comes round again?
The folded hands seem idle:
If folded at His word,
'Tis a holy service rendered
In obedience to the Lord.
"Ye know the joy of labor
Within the busy field;
But there are deeper pleasures
A faithful heart may yield.
To willing ones that suffer,
And listen at His feet,
From the far-off land God giveth
The fruit of life to eat.
Within the busy field;
But there are deeper pleasures
A faithful heart may yield.
To willing ones that suffer,
And listen at His feet,
From the far-off land God giveth
The fruit of life to eat.
"Brief is my hour of labor:
My Lord my lot hath cast;
He giveth royal wages,
To the first-called as the last.
I have seen Him in His beauty,
While waiting here alone;
I know Him ever near me,
For He cannot leave His own.
My Lord my lot hath cast;
He giveth royal wages,
To the first-called as the last.
I have seen Him in His beauty,
While waiting here alone;
I know Him ever near me,
For He cannot leave His own.
"None e'er shall lack a service,
Who only seek His will;
For He doth teach His children
To suffer and be still.
In love's deep fount of treasures
Such precious tilings are stored;
Laid up for wayside watchers,
Who wait upon the Lord."
Who only seek His will;
For He doth teach His children
To suffer and be still.
In love's deep fount of treasures
Such precious tilings are stored;
Laid up for wayside watchers,
Who wait upon the Lord."