O IT is hard to work for God,
To rise and take His part
Upon this battle-field of earth,
And not sometimes lose heart.
He hides Himself so wondrously,
As though there were no God;
He is least seen when all the powers
of ill are most abroad.
Or He deserts us at the hour
The fight is all but lost;
And seems to leave us to ourselves
Just when we need Him most.
Ah! God is other than we think,
His ways are far above;
Far beyond reason’s height, and reached
Only by childlike love.
Workman of God! O, lose not heart.
But learn what God is like;
And in the darkest battle-field
Thou shalt know where to strike.
Thrice blest is he to whom is given
The instinct that can tell
That God is on the field when He
Is most invisible.
Blest, too, is he who can divine
Where real right doth lie,
And dares to take the side that seems
Wrong to man’s blindfolded eye.
For right is right, since God is God
And right the day must win
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin.