Joy to the Toiler!--him that tills
The fields with Plenty crowned;
Him with the woodman's axe that read more

Joy to the Toiler!--him that tills
The fields with Plenty crowned;
Him with the woodman's axe that thrills
The wilderness profound.

God be thank'd that the dead have left still
Good undone for the living to do--
Still read more

God be thank'd that the dead have left still
Good undone for the living to do--
Still some aim for the heart and the will
And the soul of a man to pursue.

In every rank, or great or small,
'Tis industry supports us all.

In every rank, or great or small,
'Tis industry supports us all.

The gull shall whistle in his wake, the blind wave break in fire.
He shall fulfill God's utmost will, read more

The gull shall whistle in his wake, the blind wave break in fire.
He shall fulfill God's utmost will, unknowing His desire,
And he shall see old planets pass and alien stars arise,
And give the gale his reckless sail in shadow of new skies.
Strong lust of gear shall drive him out and hunger arm his hand,
To wring his food from a desert nude, his foothold from the sand.

The taxpayer - that's someone who works for the federal government but doesn't have to take the civil service examination.

The taxpayer - that's someone who works for the federal government but doesn't have to take the civil service examination.

For men must work and women must weep,
And the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep,
read more

For men must work and women must weep,
And the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep,
And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.

The day is short, the labor long, the workers are idle, and reward is great, and the Master is urgent.

The day is short, the labor long, the workers are idle, and reward is great, and the Master is urgent.

But till we are built like angels, with hammer and chisel and
pen,
We will work for ourself read more

But till we are built like angels, with hammer and chisel and
pen,
We will work for ourself and a woman, for ever and ever, Amen.

By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out read more

By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out sight,
Producing what? A pair of slippers, sir,
To put on when you're weary--or a stool
To tumble over and vex you . . . curse that stool!
Or else at best, a cushion where you lean
And sleep, and dream of something we are not,
But would be for your sake. Alas, alas!
This hurts most, this . . . that, after all, we are paid
The worth of our work, perhaps.