In Due Season Poem by John McCrae
In Due Season
If night should come and find me at my toil,
When all Life's day I had, tho' faintly, wrought,
And shallow furrows, cleft in stony soil
Were all my labour: Shall I count it naught
If only one poor gleaner, weak of hand,
Shall pick a scanty sheaf where I have sown?
"Nay, for of thee the Master doth demand
Thy work: the harvest rests with Him alone."
I cite the two last lines here: 'Nay, for of thee the Master doth demand Thy work: the harvest rests with Him alone.' Indeed so true. Lovely poem about our belief in God.5 Stars full Score. Congratulations on The Classic Poem Of The Day
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10/4/2024 6:39:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Brilliant lines nicely put together.........