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.
Copyright © Wanda Daugherty | Year Posted 2019
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