My heart and soul are all to tired to tell;
   So weary, Lord,
Of this long, ceaseless work of doing well,
   Without reward.

Oh, I have been thy servant now for years,
   Nor made complaint,
Though my life cup has been abrim with tears,
   But now I faint.

And I have worked for thee, with all my strength,
   In pain and woe.
My Master, canst thou chide me, if at length
   I ask to go?

Oh, if the soul is purified by fire,
   Then I am blest.
The laborer is worthy of his hire---
   Lord, give me rest.

I know that I have sinned in many ways---
   A sinner made.
But I have tried to serve thee all my days---
   I'm not afraid.

I know full well my record is not clear,
   Nor white as snow;
But better meet it than to linger here.
   Lord, let me go.

Shells by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Milwaukee: Hauser & Storey, 1873.

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