The Lord had a job for me, but I had so much to do,
I said, "You get somebody read more

The Lord had a job for me, but I had so much to do,
I said, "You get somebody else--or wait till I get through."
I don't know how the Lord came out, but He seemed to get along:
But I felt kinda sneakin' like, 'cause I know'd I done Him wrong.
One day I needed the Lord--Needed Him myself--needed Him right
away,
And He never answered me at all, but I could hear Him say
Down in my accusin' heart, "Nigger, I'se got too much to do,
You get somebody else or wait till I get through."

As for me, prizes are nothing. My prize is my work.

As for me, prizes are nothing. My prize is my work.

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall
blame;
And no one shall work read more

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall
blame;
And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame;
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate
star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They
Are!

A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three read more

A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened.

Everyone enjoys doing the kind of work for which he is best suited.

Everyone enjoys doing the kind of work for which he is best suited.

O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

But when dread Sloth, the Mother of Doom, steals in,
And reigns where Labour's glory was to serve,
read more

But when dread Sloth, the Mother of Doom, steals in,
And reigns where Labour's glory was to serve,
Then is the day of crumbling not far off.

Each natural agent works but to this end,--
To render that it works on like itself.

Each natural agent works but to this end,--
To render that it works on like itself.

The fiction pleased; our generous train complies,
Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue's fair disguise.
The work she read more

The fiction pleased; our generous train complies,
Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue's fair disguise.
The work she plyed, but, studious of delay,
Each following night reversed the toils of day.