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Rh As competent to sorrow for mankind And even their odds. A man may well despair, Who counts himself so needful to success. I failed. I throw the remedy back on God, And sit down here beside you, in good hope.’ ‘And yet, take heed,’ I answered, ‘lest we lean Too dangerously on the other side, And so fail twice. Be sure, no earnest work Of any honest creature, howbeit weak, Imperfect, ill-adapted, fails so much, It is not gathered as a grain of sand To enlarge the sum of human action used For carrying out God’s end. No creature works So ill, observe, that therefore he’s cashiered. The honest earnest man must stand and work: The woman also; otherwise she drops At once below the dignity of man, Accepting serfdom. Free men freely work: Whoever fears God, fears to sit at ease.’

He cried, ‘True. After Adam, work was curse; The natural creature labours, sweats and frets. But, after Christ, work turns to privilege; And henceforth one with our humanity, The Six-day Worker, working still in us, Has called us freely to work on with Him In high companionship. So happiest! I count that Heaven itself is only work To a surer issue. Let us work, indeed,—