Be Not Weary
Sometimes, when I am toil-worn and aweary,
And tired out with working long and well,
And earth is dark, and skies above are dreary,
And heart and soul are all too sick to tell,
These words have come to me like angel fingers
Pressing the spirit's eyelids down in sleep,
'Oh let us not be weary in well doing,
For in due season we shall surely reap.'
Oh, blessed promise! When I seem to hear it,
Whispered by angel voices on the air,
It breathes new life and courage to my spirit,
And gives me strength to suffer and forbear.
And I can wait most patiently for harvest,
And cast my seeds, nor ever faint, nor weep,
If I know surely that my work availeth,
And in God's season, I at last shall reap.
When mind and body were borne down completely,
And I have thought my efforts were all in vain,
These words have come to me so softly, sweetly,
And whispered hope, and urged me on again.
And though my labour seems all unavailing,
And all my striving fruitless, yet the Lord
Doth treasure up each little seed I scatter,
And sometime, sometime, I shall reap the reward.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Grim Reaper
The Grim Reaper will for sure, gather men who deny The Lord,
He will soon come without delay, taking unbelieving men away.
They’ll be taken and put aside, for it was The Lord, they denied.
Separated per their own desire; to be cast into the Lake of Fire.
Men shall reap what they sow; this is something all men know.
Deny God by human deduction, you will reap eternal destruction.
If you choose to accept The Lord, you will reap Eternal Reward.
The end result you will receive, for God is one you can’t deceive.
The Lord will not force your hand, but will help you to understand,
That Christ, who died upon a tree, is coming back for you and me.
First it’ll be to the clouds above, for those who received His Love.
Then down to the earth in victory, over those who refused to see.
But there is still an open door, and time to accept Christ as Lord.
And any time in any season, God with you, would like to reason,
That through His Only Son, your victory over sin has been won.
And that through Jesus Christ, you friend can have the gift of life.
Although I was once deceived, God’s Spirit spoke and I believed.
God then gave me eyes to see, now in Christ I will reap Eternity.
God wants no one to perish, and His Son He gave us to cherish.
But if you want not to believe, the Grim Reaper is who you’ll see.
Reaping What You Sow
There's an open secret, one you must have known
In this world we live in we must reap what we've sown
And our deeds like little seeds which'll surely grow
To show the world like movie the seed that we sow
Many plant mangoes expecting apples to grow
Forgetting the law which says 'You reap what you sow'
A tale I'll tell you of a wise old fool
Who did all in his power to bend this little rule
He sowed so many evil seeds while alive
And saw them grow into evil trees before his last count of five
So learn from this story, be you friend or foe
In this world we live in we'll reap what we sow
poem by Olamilekan Adewoyin
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Outre Mer
I see, as one in dreaming,
A broad, bright, quiet sea;
Beyond it lies a haven --
The only home for me.
Some men grow strong with trouble,
But all my strength is past,
And tired and full of sorrow,
I long to sleep at last.
By force of chance and changes
Man's life is hard at best;
And, seeing rest is voiceless,
The dearest thing is rest.
Beyond the sea -- behold it,
The home I wish to seek,
The refuge of the weary,
The solace of the weak!
Sweet angel fingers beckon,
Sweet angel voices ask
My soul to cross the waters;
And yet I dread the task.
God help the man whose trials
Are tares that he must reap!
He cannot face the future --
His only hope is sleep.
Across the main a vision
Of sunset coasts, and skies,
And widths of waters gleaming,
Enchant my human eyes.
I, who have sinned and suffered,
Have sought -- with tears have sought --
To rule my life with goodness,
And shape it to my thought.
And yet there is no refuge
To shield me from distress,
Except the realm of slumber
And great forgetfulness.
poem by Henry Kendall
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Patience Chest of Riches
Might the earth mount to reap
Of the heaven mother's water's it's lip
Hasty as fire, all to drip
silent sea, must it doth grip
If pond's earth, nay must reap from the hip
And treasures be it's heir to reap
poem by Muhammad Abdullah B. Kutigi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Another Task At Hand
One more task finished my friend, for what God starts He will end.
He will finish so that you will know, God will help you as you grow.
For God is with you in all you do, God is there to see you through.
God will help you through every task, and all you have to do is ask.
Christ has work prepared for you, in the simple daily tasks you do.
Friend, daily as you do your job, you perform your work as for God.
Just do each task to please The Lord, and your effort is not ignored.
And as you work to serve The Lord, you will reap an eternal reward.
My friend, with The Lord any task, can have fruit that will surely last.
As you do the mundane things, God gives your heart songs to sing.
Friend, even when the day is bleak, simply let The Good Lord speak.
God speaks to you in The Word, in Godly wisdom that you've heard.
God’s Spirit creates in you and me, a witness that all others can see,
That in your job throughout the day, Jesus is with you along the way.
When you work at any place, you can point to His Awesome Grace.
A Grace that sustains me and you, throughout every task that we do.
As you grow you become assured, your daily strength is in The Lord.
For The Lord knows what is best, and in every task you are blessed.
With this task now said and done, you can point to God’s Only Son,
Christ, who is with you every day, through every task along the way.
And let us not be weary in well doing for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.
The Silence in the Church
“The congregation shall be desired, secretly in their prayers, to make their humble
supplications to God . . . .
for the which prayers there shall be silence kept for a
space.”
(No. 1.)
O Holy spirit, we entreat,
Send down Thy quickening fire;
Let Thine own presence, dread and sweet,
These waiting hearts inspire.
In every thought and word and deed,
Breathe Thou the breath of life—
The fulness of the grace they need
For their appointed strife.
Help them to hold, in clasp of prayer,
The rod and staff of God;
And lead them safely, surely, where
The Christ Himself hath trod.
Give power to speak Thy message, Lord,
To every feeble voice;
May they the true seed cast abroad
Till desert wastes rejoice.
Make strong the toiling hearts and hands,
Keep watching eyes from sleep,
That golden harvests crown the lands
When angels come to reap.
* * * * *
(No. 2.)
POUR now, O Lord, all gifts of grace
From Thy most holy dwelling-place;
And let the living flame be shed
On each disciple's bended head.
Light up his soul with light divine,—
A star of heaven on earth to shine,
A beacon on life's stormy sea,
To guide the wandering bark to Thee.
Lord, clothe him now in white complete,
In Thine own spirit, pure and sweet;
Let him go forth to labour well,
In truth and strength invincible.
May his calm lips, that whisper now
The yearning prayer, the solemn vow,
Be ready, in the judgment-day,
The faithful servant's words to say—
“Lord, I have tried, in faithful strife,
To win Thy lambs to light and life;
Lord, I have truly kept for Thee
The awful charge Thou gavest me.”
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Work chapter VII
Then a ploughman said, "Speak to us of Work."
And he answered, saying:
You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.
When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?
Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune.
But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth's furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born,
And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life,
And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret.
But if you in your pain call birth an affliction and the support of the flesh a curse written upon your brow, then I answer that naught but the sweat of your brow shall wash away that which is written.
You have been told also life is darkness, and in your weariness you echo what was said by the weary.
And I say that life is indeed darkness save when there is urge,
And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge,
And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,
And all work is empty save when there is love;
And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.
And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, "he who works in marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is a nobler than he who ploughs the soil.
And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet."
But I say, not in sleep but in the over-wakefulness of noontide, that the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all the blades of grass;
And he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving.
Work is love made visible.
And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half man's hunger.
And if you grudge the crushing of the grapes, your grudge distills a poison in the wine.
And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man's ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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I'sleep with the angel
I'sleep in the lap angel, where the face of angel is very clear, is seen in the eyes of me*
His lap is felt warm in my spirit,
I'sleep with the angel,
The angel spreads the attraction and appealing me*
Calm my life from all dejected*
I'sleep with my angel.
My angel come from heaven.
Bring would one million loves and peace.*
Needs would he always is for me.
My angel sleeps in my heart forevermore.
Afterwards the angel gives my greetings to the Lord in heaven.
So that i'always receive him blessing.**
I'sleep with the angel.
His face like the gold painting.
Imagine about the angels body.
Is full of the flower scent.
I'sleep with the angel forevermore**
Rock Me To sleep
Backward, turn backward, O time, in your flight;
Make me a child again, just for tonight!
Mother, come back from that echoless shore;
Take me again in your heart as of yore --
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair,
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep --
Rock me to sleep, mother -- rock me to sleep!
Backward, turn backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears --
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain --
Take them and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay --
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away --
Weary of sowing for others to reap --
Rock me to sleep, mother -- rock me to sleep!
Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded -- our faces between --
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I tonight for your presence again;
Come from the silence, mother -- rock me to sleep!
Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old --
Let it drop over my forehead tonight,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light!
For, with its sunny-edged shadows once more,
Haply will throng all the visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep --
Rock me to sleep, mother -- rock me to sleep!
Mother, dear mother! the years have been long
Since I last listened to your lullaby song;
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream;
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep --
Rock me sleep, mother -- rock me to sleep!
poem by Elizabeth Akers Allen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rock Me To Sleep, Mother
BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears,—
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,—
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay,—
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between:
Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,—
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song:
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream.
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
poem by Elizabeth Chase Allen
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Dying Child
Mother, I'm tired, and I would fain be sleeping;
Let me repose upon thy bosom sick;
But promise me that thou wilt leave off weeping,
Because thy tears fall hot upon my cheek.
Here it is cold: the tempest raveth madly;
But in my dreams all is so wondrous bright;
I see the angel-children smiling gladly,
When from my weary eyes I shut out light.
Mother, one stands beside me now! and, listen!
Dost thou not hear the music's sweet accord?
See how his white wings beautifully glisten?
Surely those wings were given him by the Lord!
Green, gold, and red, are floating all around me;
They are the flowers the angel scattereth.
Should I have also wings while life has bound me?
Or, mother, are they given alone in death?
Why dost thou clasp me as if I were going?
Why dost thou press thy cheek so unto mine?
Thy cheek is hot, and yet thy tears are flowing!
I will, dear mother, will be always thine!
Do not sigh thus - it marreth my reposing;
But if thou weep, then I must weep with thee!
Ah, I am tired - my weary eyes are closing -
Look, mother, look! the angel kisseth me!
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Perfect Day
Just a perfect day..
Drink sangria in the park
And later, when it gets dark
We go home
Just a perfect day..
Feed animals in the zoo
And later, a movie too
And then home
Its such a perfect day
Im glad I spent it with you
Such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on..
You just keep me hanging on..
Just a perfect day..
Problems all left alone
Weekenders on our own
Such fun
Just a perfect day
You made me forget myself
I thought I was someone else
Someone new
(chorus)
-
Youre gonna reap, just what you sow.
Youre gonna reap, just what you sow.
Youre gonna reap, just what you sow.
Youre gonna reap, just what you sow.
Youre gonna reap, just what you sow.
Youre gonna reap, just what you sow.
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Messidor
Put in the sickles and reap;
For the morning of harvest is red,
And the long large ranks of the corn
Coloured and clothed as the morn
Stand thick in the fields and deep
For them that faint to be fed.
Let all that hunger and weep
Come hither, and who would have bread
Put in the sickles and reap.
Coloured and clothed as the morn,
The grain grows ruddier than gold,
And the good strong sun is alight
In the mists of the day-dawn white,
And the crescent, a faint sharp horn,
In the fear of his face turns cold
As the snakes of the night-time that creep
From the flag of our faith unrolled.
Put in the sickles and reap.
In the mists of the day-dawn white
That roll round the morning star,
The large flame lightens and grows
Till the red-gold harvest-rows,
Full-grown, are full of the light
As the spirits of strong men are,
Crying, Who shall slumber or sleep?
Who put back morning or mar?
Put in the sickles and reap.
Till the red-gold harvest-rows
For miles through shudder and shine
In the wind's breath, fed with the sun,
A thousand spear-heads as one
Bowed as for battle to close
Line in rank against line
With place and station to keep
Till all men's hands at a sign
Put in the sickles and reap.
A thousand spear-heads as one
Wave as with swing of the sea
When the mid tide sways at its height;
For the hour is for harvest or fight
In face of the just calm sun,
As the signal in season may be
And the lot in the helm may leap
When chance shall shake it; but ye,
Put in the sickles and reap.
For the hour is for harvest or fight
To clothe with raiment of red;
O men sore stricken of hours,
Lo, this one, is not it ours
To glean, to gather, to smite?
Let none make risk of his head
Within reach of the clean scythe-sweep,
When the people that lay as the dead
Put in the sickles and reap.
Lo, this one, is not it ours,
Now the ruins of dead things rattle
As dead men's bones in the pit,
Now the kings wax lean as they sit
Girt round with memories of powers,
With musters counted as cattle
And armies folded as sheep
Till the red blind husbandman battle
Put in the sickles and reap?
Now the kings wax lean as they sit,
The people grow strong to stand;
The men they trod on and spat,
The dumb dread people that sat
As corpses cast in a pit,
Rise up with God at their hand,
And thrones are hurled on a heap,
And strong men, sons of the land,
Put in the sickles and reap.
The dumb dread people that sat
All night without screen for the night,
All day without food for the day,
They shall give not their harvest away,
They shall eat of its fruit and wax fat:
They shall see the desire of their sight,
Though the ways of the seasons be steep,
They shall climb with face to the light,
Put in the sickles and reap.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The law of harvest is to reap more than you sow. Sow an act, and you reap a habit. Sow a habit and you reap a character. Sow a character and you reap a destiny.
quote by James Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sow Better Seeds
The first shall be the last and,
The last shall be first;
So, do sow better seeds along the way of your life.
You will reap what you sow and,
You will be trapped in your own traps;
Like the first and the last.
'Penny wise and Pounds foolish',
The saying of a message to calm down the rivers;
The weather us warm and bright but,
You are without the words of your father.
Our sins, what are its wages?
This is the message to calm down the seas;
For only one night,
For only one love,
To feel what i used to feel when love calls;
Like a message to calm down the oceans.
A poem of shirts,
A poem of skirts,
A poem of shoes,
A poem of trousers!
Like the daughter of the earth;
This is a message to calm down the waters.
Till the stars shine through the roofs,
'Penny wise and Pounds foolish';
Dark fell the night like English Slaves in the woodland.
The last shall be first,
With eyelids heavy and red;
Do sow a better for a better tomorrow.
The last shall be first and,
The first shall be last;
Gain your tomorrow like a golden cup.
You will reap what you sow,
Like the law from a father's word;
You will reap what you sow.
Of all the flowers,
The reapers reaped;
But when he morrow comes,
Some works of a noble note is much needed.
To seek and to find without yielding is the case here,
Like unequal laws unto a savage race;
Sow a better seed and,
Learn how to do your best in all things.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Hymn
Eternal power of earth and air,
Unseen, yet seen in all around,
Remote, but dwelling everywhere,
Though silent, heard in every sound.
If e'er thine ear in mercy bent
When wretched mortals cried to thee,
And if indeed thy Son was sent
To save lost sinners such as me.
Then hear me now, while kneeling here;
I lift to thee my heart and eye
And all my soul ascends in prayer;
O give me - give me Faith I cry.
Without some glimmering in my heart,
I could not raise this fervent prayer;
But O a stronger light impart,
And in thy mercy fix it there!
While Faith is with me I am blest;
It turns my darkest night to day;
But while I clasp it to my breast
I often feel it slide away.
Then cold and dark my spirit sinks,
To see my light of life depart,
And every fiend of Hell methinks
Enjoys the anguish of my heart.
What shall I do if all my love,
My hopes, my toil, are cast away,
And if there be no God above
To hear and bless me when I pray?
If this be vain delusion all,
If death be an eternal sleep,
And none can hear my secret call,
Or see the silent tears I weep.
O help me God! for thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve;
Forsake it not -- it is thine own,
Though weak yet longing to believe.
O drive these cruel doubts away
And make me know that thou art God;
A Faith that shines by night and day
Will lighten every earthly load.
If I believe that Jesus died
And waking rose to reign above,
Then surely Sorrow, Sin and Pride
Must yield to peace and hope and love.
And all the blessed words he said
Will strength and holy joy impart,
A shield of safety o'er my head,
A spring of comfort in my heart.
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Vampire Within
hello my angel love
i have missed you so
over these long and lonely years
i long to be with you
will you take me as i am
for i am not the same being
that you fell in love with so long ago
for now i look like a dark angel
when in all actuality
i am the vampire within
oh my angel love
i can't help but want
to feel you body close to mine again
i miss your touch and kiss
for you gave me life
when i thought i was gone
the light in your soul
still gives me some hope
that i don't have to be this way forever
can it be true my angel love
that it may be possible for us
to be lovers again
even with the vampire within
a chance for me to feel
your silky smooth skin
as i feel your body with my hands
i promise to protect us from sight
with my ever so large wings
for i need you now my angel love
to take care of this desire in me
i promise to you
that i will not turn you
for i could not hurt you my angel love
as i am with you i will do my best
to keep my fangs in during our time
for i hope you can love me
even with the vampire within
poem by Grace Hays
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The Doubter's Prayer
Eternal Power, of earth and air!
Unseen, yet seen in all around,
Remote, but dwelling everywhere,
Though silent, heard in every sound.
If e'er thine ear in mercy bent,
When wretched mortals cried to Thee,
And if, indeed, Thy Son was sent,
To save lost sinners such as me:
Then hear me now, while, kneeling here,
I lift to thee my heart and eye,
And all my soul ascends in prayer,
Oh, give me - give me Faith! I cry.
Without some glimmering in my heart,
I could not raise this fervent prayer;
But, oh! a stronger light impart,
And in Thy mercy fix it there.
While Faith is with me, I am blest;
It turns my darkest night to day;
But while I clasp it to my breast,
I often feel it slide away.
Then, cold and dark, my spirit sinks,
To see my light of life depart;
And every fiend of Hell, methinks,
Enjoys the anguish of my heart.
What shall I do, if all my love,
My hopes, my toil, are cast away,
And if there be no God above,
To hear and bless me when I pray?
If this be vain delusion all,
If death be an eternal sleep,
And none can hear my secret call,
Or see the silent tears I weep!
Oh, help me, God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve;
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Though weak, yet longing to believe.
Oh, drive these cruel doubts away;
And make me know, that Thou art God!
A faith, that shines by night and day,
Will lighten every earthly load.
If I believe that Jesus died,
And, waking, rose to reign above;
Then surely Sorrow, Sin, and Pride,
Must yield to Peace, and Hope, and Love.
And all the blessed words He said
Will strength and holy joy impart:
A shield of safety o'er my head,
A spring of comfort in my heart.
poem by Anne Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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We The Cats (Shall Hep Ya)
(words and music by Cab Calloway and Jack Palmer)
And the time is right
And tonight's the night
Alreed-alright
Come on, old man, come on
We the cats shall hep ya
So reap this righteous riff
Here's the beat to hep ya
So reap this righteous riff
Well, you gotta come on like GI's
You dig the repeat with me and sigh
Put it right on the lee high
Then you can really get by, oh my
We the cats shall hep ya
So reap this righteous riff
Now you're hep I'll betcha
So reap this righteous riff
Well, we the cats shall hep ya
So reap this righteous riff
Here's the beat to hep ya
So reap this righteous riff
Well, you gotta come on like GI's
You dig the repeat with me and sigh
Put it right on the lee high
Then you can really get by, oh my
We the cats shall hep ya
So reap this righteous riff
Now you're hep I'll betcha
So reap this righteous riff
(instrumnetal break)
Well, we the cats shall hep ya
So reap this righteous riff
Here's the beat to hep ya
So reap this righteous riff
Well, you gotta come on like GI's
You dig the repeat with me and sigh
Put it right on the lee high
Then you can really get by, oh my
We the cats shall hep ya
So reap this righteous riff
Now you're hep I'll betcha
Skibble-de-dooba
Skibble-de-boy-boy
Skibble-de-reeba
This righteous, this righteous riff
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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