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LABOR IS PRAYER
- LABORARE est orare:
- We, black‐visaged sons of toil,
- From the coal‐mine and the anvil
- And the delving of the soil,—
- From the loom, the wharf, the warehouse,
- And the ever‐whirling mill,
- Out of grim and hungry silence
- Raise a weak voice small and shrill;—
- Laborare est orare:
- Man, dost hear us? God, He will.
- We, who just can keep from starving
- Sickly wives,—not always mild:
- Trying not to curse Heaven’s bounty
- When it sends another child,—
- We who, worn‐out, doze on Sundays
- O’er the Book we strive to read,
- Cannot understand the parson
- Or the catechism and creed.
- Laborare est orare:—
- Then, good sooth, we pray indeed.
- We, poor women, feeble‐natured,
- Large of heart, in wisdom small,
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- Who the world’s incessant battle
- Cannot understand at all,
- All the mysteries of the churches,
- All the troubles of the state,—
- Whom child‐smiles teach “God is loving,”
- And child‐coffins, “God is great”:
- Laborare est orare:—
- We too at His footstool wait.
- Laborare est orare;
- Hear it, ye of spirit poor,
- Who sit crouching at the threshold
- While your brethren force the door;
- Ye whose ignorance stands wringing
- Rough hands, scamed with toil, nor dares
- Lift so much as eyes to Heaven,—
- Lo! all life this truth declares,
- Laborare est orare;
- And the whole earth rings with prayers.
