Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By The Rivulet (1871). IV. Dismiss me notThomas Toke Lynch (18181871)
D
But train me for Thy will;
For even I in fields so broad
Some duties may fulfil;
And I will ask for no reward,
Except to serve Thee still.
May to the service come;
To tend the vines, the grapes to store,
Thou dost appoint for some:
Thou hast Thy young men at the war,
Thy little ones at home.
As most it pleases Thee;
Each worker pleases when the rest
He serves in charity:
And neither man nor work unblest
Wilt Thou permit to be.
The worker’s way who trod;
He served as man, but now His throne,
It is the throne of God:
The sceptre He hath to us shown
Is like a blossoming rod.
Hath each command of His,
And each with clustering blossoms rife
At every season is;
Bare only, like a sword of strife,
Against love’s enemies.
He asks of us to-day;
Sharing His service, every one
Share too His sonship may.
Lord, I would serve and be a son;
Dismiss me not, I pray.