To Be Sung at Work

Son of the Carpenter, receive
This humble work of mine;
Worth to my meanest labour give,
By joining it to Thine.

Servant of all, to toil for man
Thou wouldst not, Lord, refuse:
Thy Majesty did not disdain
To be employ'd for us.

Thy bright example I pursue,
To Thee in all things rise,
And all I think, or speak, or do,
Is one great sacrifice.

Careless through outward cares I go,
From all distraction free:
My hands are but engaged below,
My heart is still with Thee.

O, when wilt Thou, my Life, appear!
How gladly would I cry,
"'Tis done, the work Thou gav'st me Jiere,
Tis finish'd, Lord,"— and die!