When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask; But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies "God doth not need
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
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."
Notes
'(line 3: And that one talent which is death to hide,...): He speaks here with allusion to the parable of the talents, Mat. XXV. and he speaks with great modesty of himself, as if he had not five, or two, but only one talent.'
~ Th. Newton, Milton's Works, 2nd edition, 1753.
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Comments
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I like this poem, although I'm unsure of when it was written, since the subject is surely his blindness and 'half his days' would be 35- I thought he still had his sight then? I like the truth of his message, God rewards those who are humble towards him as well as those who do good deeds. This is one of Milton's classics.
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