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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391796" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Go Work in My Vineyard</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go work in my vineyard, said the Lord, <br>And gather the bruised grain; <br>But the reapers had left the stubble bare, <br>And I trod the soil in pain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fields of my Lord are wide and broad, <br>He has pastures fair and green, <br>And vineyards that drink the golden light <br>Which flows from the sun's bright sheen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I heard the joy of the reapers' song, <br>As they gathered golden grain; <br>Then wearily turned unto my task, <br>With a lonely sense of pain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sadly I turned from the sun's fierce glare, <br>And sought the quiet shade, <br>And over my dim and weary eyes <br>Sleep's peaceful fingers strayed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I dreamed I joined with a restless throng, <br>Eager for pleasure and gain; <br>But ever and anon a stumbler fell, <br>And uttered a cry of pain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the eager crowd still hurried on, <br>Too busy to pause or heed, <br>When a voice rang sadly through my soul, <br>You must staunch these wounds that bleed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My hands were weak, but I reached them out <br>To feebler ones than mine, <br>And over the shadows of my life <br>Stole the light of a peace divine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! then my task was a sacred thing, <br>How precious it grew in my eyes! <br>'Twas mine to gather the bruised grain <br>For the &quot;Lord of Paradise.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when the reapers shall lay their grain <br>On the floors of golden light, <br>I feel that mine with its broken sheaves <br>Shall be precious in His sight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though thorns may often pierce my feet, <br>And the shadows still abide, <br>The mists will vanish before His smile, <br>There will be light at eventide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Frances+Ellen+Watkins+Harper">Frances Ellen Watkins Harper</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391796" data-title="Go Work in My Vineyard de Frances Ellen Watkins Harper" data-description="Go work in my vineyard, said the Lord, 
And gather the bruised grain; 
But the reapers had left the stubble bare, 
And I trod the soil in pain. 

The fields of my Lord are wide and broad, 
He has pastures fair and green, 
And vineyards that drink ..."></div>
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