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!

Plough deep while sluggards sleep.

Plough deep while sluggards sleep.

A day's work is a day's work, neither more nor less, and the man
who does it needs a read more

A day's work is a day's work, neither more nor less, and the man
who does it needs a day's sustenance, a night's repose, and due
leisure, whether he be a painter or ploughman.

To build may have to be the slow and laborious task of years. To
destroy can be the thoughtless read more

To build may have to be the slow and laborious task of years. To
destroy can be the thoughtless act of a single day.

All things are full of labour; man cannot utter it: the eye is
not satisfied with seeing, nor the read more

All things are full of labour; man cannot utter it: the eye is
not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled hearing.

Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious
stones, wood, hay, stubble;
Every man's work read more

Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious
stones, wood, hay, stubble;
Every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall
declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire
shall try every man's work of what sort it is.

Unemployment, with its injustice for the man who seeks and
thirsts for employment, who begs for labour and cannot read more

Unemployment, with its injustice for the man who seeks and
thirsts for employment, who begs for labour and cannot get it,
and who is punished for failure he is not responsible for by the
starvation of his children--that torture is something that
private enterprise ought to remedy for its own sake.

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.

How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting read more

How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting drudgery and care!
How many a vulgar Cato has compelled
His energies, no longer tameless then,
To mould a pin, or fabricate a nail!