CAN THE WILLING HANDS BE WEARY?

Can the willing hands be weary? When they carry sweetest cheer, Into lives too dark and dreary Lives too oft beset by fear; Lives whose only glimpse of pleasure It is blessed to bestow. There are gifts we may not measure, Gifts that only love may know. Can our hurried footsteps falter When we do a kindly deed? Can a trifle serve to alter What would save a soul in need? Can we pause to weigh the chances, Or refuse to heed each call? Lo, a pleasant word enhances Just the treasure gift of all. In the gift, behold the giver Deeds perpetuate a thought, Let us hasten to deliver What can never be forgot. Offer “oil of joy” for sadness, Speed a brother on his way, Fill some fainting heart with gladness; Scatter sunshine while we may. Hear the songs of praise ascending! Breathe the music laden air! Grateful melodies are blending, With the heav’nward winging prayer; Deaf the ear that will not harken To the tale they sweetly tell, “What though earthly skies may darken, God is doing all things well.”