The hands that do God's work are patient hands, And quick for toil, though folded oft in prayer; They do the unseen work they understand And find — no matter where.
The feet that follow His must be swift feet, For time is all too short, the way too long; Perchance they will be bruised, but falter not, For love shall make them strong.
The lips that speak God's words must learn to wear Silence and calm, although the pain be long; And, loving so the Master, learn to share His agony and wrong.^
(2) It is varied work. Had we been in Jerusalem, we should have noticed great differences between the kinds of work done. Some was arduous and mechanical, and some was very pleasant, giving opportunity for the exercise of artistic taste. Some was dignified and some was undignified. Still, every kind of work had its place. None could be neglected. The toil of the poor clay- ^ A. Rowland. ^ William Ordway Partridge.
I KINGS VI. 7 399
moulder was as necessary as the skill of the clever designer. It would be an onerous task even to mention all the forms of Christian activity. Suffice it to say that something can be done by every man, woman, and child for the establishment of Christ's Kingdom. Nor ought we to disregard such service as is quite outside the organization of the Church. For example, as Christian citizens we should take our share of responsibility, and, if need be, of reproach, in the defence of the liberties of the people, and in the furtherance of all legislation which will put down the prevalence of vice and wrong.
I stood by fields and farms where men Were working with a glad intensity As works the swallow bent to feed her young. All knew they did not spend their strength for naught, That every action was a seed whose plant Should bloom in Heav'n and therefore used the spade The axe, the saw, as tools wherewith to shape Their individual hope. Although no minds Were like, yet all were tempered to the whole Intent of God — the many wires of one Well-tun M dulcimer. Thus all who shaped Their proper Paradise laid stones upon The walls of new Jerusalem. The Sun Diffused a sacrificial will among The very birds and beasts, who lent themselves With conscious pleasure to the ends of man. The tiller of the soil was gladdened by The brown earth's charity, and he that hewed The rock rejoiced together with the cliff Whence it was hewn. The angels, lily fair And swallow fleet, passed everywhere to help Or guide at need.^
(3) All true work is after the Divine plan. The work of Solomon's builders, however widely distributed, however secretly done, was all tending towards an appointed end — the completion of a Temple, in which God would be worshipped, and where He would reveal Himself. That building existed in the mind of the Master-Builder before it had an actual existence ; for an architect not only draws plans, but makes a specification, and perhaps takes out his quantities ; so that he thinks through the whole work and
^ Anna Bunston, The Porch of Paradise.
400 HEWING AND BUILDING
knows its minutest details. It is so with the Great Architect, the Originator and Upholder of all things. The Divine purpose is controlling our activities, is appointing to each of us his responsi- bilities, and God will at last bring out of what appear to be confused and contradictory events "new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness."
^ God is a great executive, the great executive of the universe. He planned the vast scheme of worlds making up the universe, and every detail. The whole universe in its immensity, and the intricacy of its movements, is kept in motion by Him. And every detail, down to the smallest, the falling of one of the smallest birds, is ever under His thoughtful eye and touch. And He is our God. He has each of us on His heart.^
^ This is the secret of giving dignity to trifles. As units they are insignificant; they rise in importance when they become parts of a plan.^
(4) And all true work is painful work. The thing that must instantly occur to us, the moment that we have read about the silent way in which this temple-building was prepared for and accomplished, is that, after all, the noise was not got rid of ; but simply separated from the ultimate construction. You cannot quarry a stone without noise. No huge boulder was ever lifted out of its primeval bed or riven from its parent rock without blows and sweat and strain and thunderous percussion. No tree was ever felled without that sharp smiting and steady thud of the workman's axe which has made ten thousand forests ring. In preparing the metals which we employ in rearing any lowhest temple, with what a heat and noise those metals must be forged ! Nay, if we could have been among the craftsmen at Mount Lebanon where the timbers of the Temple were prepared, or in the quarries where the stones for its foundations were hewn and dressed, we should have found there no lack of clamour, and strife, and unrest. No least detail of that holy and beautiful house was made ready save at the cost of countless blows, of manifold discussion, of ceaseless weariness and fatigue. Doubt- less there were all the catastrophes, the maladjustments, the sacrifice of individual life or limb to a great undertaking that