Rests for a season from his mighty labours,
And seeks fresh vigour in a change of toil.

_Labour is sweet,
When hands and hearts are willing,--
Who truly works
Is God's own law fulfilling_.

With his own hands he helps to build a temple,
Here, in the wilds, a temple to his God,
Rough-hewn and roughly thatched, but still a house
Of prayer, a holy place, and consecrate
To Him whose noblest temples are not built
With hands, but in the opened hearts of men.

_The Master worked,
With His own hands expressing
His sure belief
That therein lay God's blessing_.

Thus, as he toils, with axe, and nail, and hammer,
His heart rejoices,--so the Master worked,
And by His lowly toil for ever stamped
True labour with its highest dignity.

_With a will!
With a will!
With a will and surely!
Without fail,
Drive each nail,