Call To Labor
I need my cradle the best to know:
That my father was a Lord’s servant meek,
And mum a clergy of endowments lean,
Who her Master’s will loves to seek.
I should never with loafers’ escort find my joy,
But in devotion to labor and toil discover my call.
And all urges that I be calm and coy
Must be trashed to the nearest bin.
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