The Elko Independent

KING-LABORER.

What though I am a laborer, my form be broad and stout.
That I, with toil and hardship, have many a sturdy bout:
What though my garb is homely, my face begrimmed with sweat,
I'm equal with the lordling here, aye, brother to him yet:
For my Maker, Lord and Master is a laborer strong and bold;
His intellect is sunlight, His heart is virgin gold:
And with majestic sweetness and words of heavenly cheer,
He pours His blessing treasures out for all His children here.
The poorest, humblest workman who listens to His voice,
Mid the glorious fields of heaven will one day yet rejoice;
Though here his lot be lowly, his home's beyond the sky:
His Father is the "King of Kings" and "Lord of Lords" on high.
God made all in his image, with rare and curious skill:
He breathed into their nostrils and gave them life and will:
And thus—so strange it seems, indeed, it well a smile might bring—
The workman, in his fustian suit, is brother to the king.
Then stand up, stalwart workman, with your great strong arm of might;
Be true to heavenly instincts, be true to God and right;
Let earthly grandeur pass you by, let worldly pride look down,
In Heaven a beauteous casket contains a sparkling crown;
And when you hear the summons that calls you hence away
To the shining streets of Heaven, the realms of endless day,
Your heart will throb with rapture, you'll hear the angels sing
They'll meet you at the "Golden Gate" and crown you then a king.

-Prairie Farmer.