Home  »  The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century  »  Edward Henry Bickersteth (1825–1906)

Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.

By From Year to Year (1883). III. “My work is done”

Edward Henry Bickersteth (1825–1906)

“MY work is done, I lay me down to die,

Weary and travel-worn I long for rest,

Speak but the word, dear Master, and I fly,

A dove let loose, to nestle in Thy breast.”

“Not yet, My child, a little longer wait,

I need thy prayerful watch at glory’s gate!”

“But, Lord, I have no strength to watch and pray;

My spirit is benumb’d, and dim my sight;

And I shall grieve Thy watchful love, as they

Who in the garden slept that Paschal night.”

“My child, I need thy weakness hour by hour

To prove in Me, thy strengthlessness is power.”

“Not for myself alone I urge the suit;

But loved ones lose for me life’s priceless bloom,

And tender, patient, uncomplaining, mute,

Wear out their joyance in my darken’d room.”

“Enough, My child, I need their love to thee:

Around thy couch they minister to Me.”

“It is enough, dear Master; yea, Amen,

I will not breathe one murmur of reply,

Only fulfil Thy work in me, and then

Call me and bid me answer,—‘Here am I.’”

“My child, the sign I waited for is given,

Thy work is done, I need thee now in heaven.