Servant of Christ, stand fast amid the scorn
Of men who little know or love thy Lord;
Turn not aside from toil; cease not to warn,
Comfort and teach. Trust Him for thy reward:
A few more moments’ suffering, and then
Cometh sweet rest from all thy heart’s deep pain.
For grace pray much, for much thou needest grace;
If men thy work deride—what can they more?
Christ’s weary foot thy path on earth doth trace;
If thorns wound thee, they pierced Him before;
Press on, look up, though clouds may gather round;
Thy place of service He makes hallowed ground.
Have friends forsaken thee, and cast thy name
Out as a worthless thing? Take courage then;
Go, tell thy Master; for they did the same
To Him, Who once in patience toiled for them:
Yet He was perfect in all service here;
Thou oft hast failed; this maketh Him more dear.
“The time is short”: seek little here below;
Earth’s goods would cumber thee, and drag thee down;
Let daily food suffice; care not to know
Thought for tomorrow; it may never come.
Thou canst not perish, for thy Lord is nigh,
And His own care will all thy need supply.
—John J. Penstone, “The Servant’s Path”