She Hath Done What She Could

1 I could not do the work the reapers did,
Or bind the golden sheaves that thickly fell;
But I could follow by the Master’s side,
Watching the marred face I loved so well.
Right in my path lay many a ripen’d ear
Which I would stoop and gather joyfully,—
I did not know the Master placed them there—
“Handfuls of purpose” that He left for me.

2 I could not cast the heavy fisher-net,
I had not strength or wisdom for the task;
So on the sunlit sands, with spray-drops wet,
I sat, while earnest pray’rs rose thick and fast.
I pleaded for the Master’s blessing, where
My brethren toil’d upon the world-wide sea;
Or ever that I knew His smile so fair
Shone, beaming sweet encouragement on me.

3 I could not join the glorious soldier-band,
I never heard their thrilling battle-cry;
The work allotted by the Master’s hand
Kept me at home, while others went to die.
And yet, when victory crowned the struggle long,
And spoils were homeward brought, both rich and rare,
He let me help to chant the triumph-song,
And bade me in the gold an jewels share.

4 O Master dear! the tiniest work for Thee
Finds recompense beyond our highest thought,
And feeble hands that worked but tremblingly
The richest colours in Thy fabric wrought.
We are content to take what Thou shalt give,
To do, or suffer, as Thy choice shall be:
Forsaking all Thy wisdom bids us leave,
Glad in the thought that we are pleasing Thee!


Source: Hymns of Consecration and Faith #327

• MIDI file from Hymns of Consecration and Faith #327