Quitting Time

Years ago I worked in Houston; In a Super-Store. I often worked the night-shift; I worked out on the floor. It was honest money; But sometimes the work was hard. I was glad at quitting time, When it was time to punch my card. It was dark when work was finished; I walked to my car alone. But it made me little difference; Cause it was my time to go home. I've worked now many season's, In my Master's field. I've planted in the springtime; And seen the harvest yield. I've shivered in the morning chill; And worked though the heat of day To help the weary traveler; Who is lost, to find his way. But it's getting up toward evening; And I know that supper's on. The bell will soon be ringing, At last we can go home I listen for my Master; And His glorious call sublime. With joy I greet the evening. For I know it's quitting time. The darkness closes round us, But I know we'll find our way. For He is there to guide us, At the closing of the day. I found pleasure in my labor; And I know I did my best. We will find a bright tomorrow, And in Christ our souls will rest.