Licht an

When I consider how my light is spent,

   Ere half my days, in this dark world 

   And that one Talent which is death to hide

   Lodged with me, though my Soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

   “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”

   I fondly asked , But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, “God gives light 'anyways'

   Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best

   Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed with present licht (light)

    o’er Land and Ocean without rest:

   They also serve who only stand and wait.”