Our Joy Is Measured By What We Do

We bring to the Lord and we call it giving,
It is merely paying a debt we owe.
The life we from day to day are living
Is broader, deeper, than man may know.

While striving to walk in the path of duty,
The way may be rugged and yet be plain.
A thought may be true, conceal its beauty,
We bury a bliss and sigh in vain,

We work for the Lord, nor faint, nor falter,
However perplexing the task may be;
The promise is sure, it cannot alter,
There’s strength and enough for you and me.

Consider the song the angels were singing
That first glad Christmas the world ever knew.
God needs the offering men are bringing
Our joy is measured by what we do.