Its Own Reward
Good effort.
I am making a bench to place overlooking the valley village. I laid out the dimensions with great care, sanded it over and over, and now adding coat after coat of varnish. People will use it for years to come; it must be well made.
Later, when I have placed it and my own life’s memory has faded into obscurity, will any praise the construction? Will someone remark upon its fine proportions?
Is it this possibility that drives me?
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Let me labor in secret, Lord, for later days will never know me. Let my efforts be their own reward.
– from the mountain
Consider:
Can I bring my full self to all my tasks?
Reading:
“Our praises are our wages.” — William Shakespeare, All’s Well That Ends Well, Act II, Scene III
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“Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, makes that and the action fine.” — George Herbert, The Elixir
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“That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly.” — Matthew 6:4 (KJV)
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