And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessed--they know the angels
are on their side:
They know read more

And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessed--they know the angels
are on their side:
They know in them is the Grace confessed, and for them are the
Mercies multiplied;
They sit at the Feet, they hear the Word, they see how truly the
Promise runs;
They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and--the Lord He lays
it on Martha's sons!

With hand on the spade and heart in the sky
Dress the ground and till it;
Turn read more

With hand on the spade and heart in the sky
Dress the ground and till it;
Turn in the little seed, brown and dry,
Turn out the golden millet.
Work, and your house shall be duly fed:
Work, and rest shall be won;
I hold that a man had better be dead
Than alive when his work is done.

I never did anything by accident, nor did any of my inventions come by accident; they came by work.

I never did anything by accident, nor did any of my inventions come by accident; they came by work.

Why do strong arms fatigue themselves with frivolous dumb-bells?
To dig a vineyard is a worthier exercise for men.

Why do strong arms fatigue themselves with frivolous dumb-bells?
To dig a vineyard is a worthier exercise for men.

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.

The Moor has done his work, the Moor may go.
[Ger., Der Mohr hat seine Arbeit gethan, der Mohr read more

The Moor has done his work, the Moor may go.
[Ger., Der Mohr hat seine Arbeit gethan, der Mohr kann gehen.]

You're blessed if you have the strength to work.

You're blessed if you have the strength to work.

Each one to his own trade; then would the cows be well cared for.

Each one to his own trade; then would the cows be well cared for.

When Adam dalfe and Eve spane
So spire if thou may spede,
Where was then the pride read more

When Adam dalfe and Eve spane
So spire if thou may spede,
Where was then the pride of man,
That nowe merres his mede?