The Gleaners

The Gleaners Ye emblems of Earth's happy, younger days, When kings held sway o'er all the earth, then known,, Why do you glean, nor cease, nor yet delay That endless task which claims you for its own? And yet, you bear a message in your song, And we but read between each silent line: "Glean on. The Master's summons comes ere long; So, gather in your sheaves while yet there's time." Take heed, weak flesh, lest, when the threshing's done, You do not cry: "Lord let thy mercy fall O'er my scant work; consider yet, I pray, How short that day of gleaning was for all." How short! and yet no burdensome complaint Is echoed from the lips of workers here. My soul, why shrink ye back with light so faint? Glean on. Life's setting sun is drawing near. Erma Pace