Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Your Mission

Your Mission.

If you cannot on the ocean Sail among the swiftest fleet,Rocking on the highest billows, Laughing at the storms you meet—You can stand among the sailors, Anchored yet within the bay;You can lend a hand to help them, When they launch their boats away.

If you are too weak to journey Up the mountains steep and high,You can stand within the valley While the multitudes go by;You can chant in happy measures, As they slowly pass along;Though they may forget the singer, They will not forget the song.

If you have not gold and silver Ever ready at command;If you cannot, toward the needy, Reach an ever open hand;You can visit the afflicted, O'er the erring you can weep;You can be a true disciple, Sitting at the Saviour's feet.

If you cannot, in the conflict, Prove yourself a soldier true;If, where the fire and smoke are thickest, There's no work for you to do;When the battle-field is silent, Yon can go with careful tread,You can bear away the wounded, You can cover up the dead.

If you cannot in the harvest, Garner up the richest sheaves:Many a grain, both ripe and golden, Which the careless reaper leaves,You can glean among the briers Growing rank against the wall,F or it may be that their shadow Hides the heaviest wheat of all.

Do not, then, stand idly waiting For some greater work to do;Fortune is a lazy goddess, She will never come to you.Go and toil in any vineyard, Do not fear to do or dare;If you want afield of labour, You can find it anywhere.