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