I WAS LONGING TO SERVE MY MASTER

I   WAS longing to serve my Master,

But, alas! I was laid aside

From the busy and happy workers,

Who toiled in the field so wide.

They were few, yes, few in number,

And I could not understand

Why I should be kept inactive,—

It was not as I had planned.

I   was longing to serve my Master,

I knew that the work was great,

For me it was easy to labor.

But, oh, it was hard to wait;

To lie quite still and be silent,

While the song was borne to mine ear

Of the reapers with whom I had mingled

In the work to my heart so dear.

I  was longing to serve my Master,

Oh. this was my one fond thought,

For this I was ever pleading.

When His footstool in prayer I sought;

 And the seasons of sweet communion

Were few and far apart,—

Not of Him so much as His service,

Were the thoughts that filled my heart.

I  was longing to serve my Master,—

He led to a desert place

And there as we stopped and rested

 His eyes looked down in my face,

So full of tender reproaching,

That filled me with sad surprise.

Did He think I had grudged my service

And counted it sacrifice?

“Oh, Master, I long to serve Thee,

 The time is so short at best,

Let me go to the field,” I pleaded

 “I care not to stay and rest!”

I  knelt at His feet, imploring,

I gazed in His face above;

“My child,” He said gently, “your service

 Is nothing without your love.”

I  was longing to serve my Master,

I thought that His greatest care

Was to keep all His workers busy

 In reaping the sheaves so fair.

But there on the lonely desert,

Afar from the busy scene,

It  dawned on me slowly and sadly

Where the great mistake had been:

My mind was so full of service,

I had drifted from Him apart,

And He longed for the old confiding,

 The union of heart with heart.

I sought and received forgiveness,

While mine eyes with tears were dim,

And now tho’ the work is still precious

The first place is kept for Him.

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