By Rob Morris
When the Spirit came to Jephtha,
Animating his great heart,
He arose, put on his armor,
Girt his loins about to part,
Bowed the knee, implored a blessing,
Gave the earnest of his faith,
Then, divinely strung, departed,
Set for victory or death.
If a rude, uncultured soldier
Thus drew Wisdom from above,
How should we, enlightened Laborers,
Children of the Sire of Love,
How should we, who know the Wisdom
Gentle, pure and peaceable,
Make a prayerful preparation
That our work be square and full!
Lo, the future! One can read it,
He its darkest chance can bend.
Lo, our wants, how great, how many!
He abundant means can lend.
Raise your hearts, then, Pilgrims, boldly
Build and journey in His trust
Square your deeds by precepts holy,
And the end is surely blest.
Vainly will the builders labor
If the Overseer be gone
Vainly gate and wall are guarded
If the All-Seeing is withdrawn
Only is successful ending
When the work's begun with care
Lay your blocks, then, Laborers, strongly,
On the Eternal Rock of Prayer.
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