Livingstone The Builder

A poem by William Arthur Dunkerley

With a will!
With a will!
With a will and surely!
Without fail,
Drive each nail,
Build we so, securely!

The Pioneer,--the Undaunted One,
Worn with long journeyings through the Great Dark Land,
Rests for a season from his mighty labours,
And seeks fresh vigour in a change of toil.

Labour is sweet,
When hands and hearts are willing,--
Who truly works
Is God's own law fulfilling.

With his own hands he helps to build a temple,
Here, in the wilds, a temple to his God,
Rough-hewn and roughly thatched, but still a house
Of prayer, a holy place, and consecrate
To Him whose noblest temples are not built
With hands, but in the opened hearts of men.

The Master worked,
With His own hands expressing
His sure belief
That therein lay God's blessing.

Thus, as he toils, with axe, and nail, and hammer,
His heart rejoices,--so the Master worked,
And by His lowly toil for ever stamped
True labour with its highest dignity.

With a will!
With a will!
With a will and surely!
Without fail,
Drive each nail,
Build we so, securely!

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