  If Christ should come to my store to-day, What would he think, what would he say? If his eyes on my opened ledgers were laid, Would they meet a record of unfair trade, And see that, lured by the love of pelf, For a trivial price I had sold myself? Or would he the stainless record behold Of perfect integrity, richer than gold? If Christ should come to my school-room to-day, What would he think, what would he say? Would he find me giving the self-same care To stupid and poor as to rich and fair, And striving, unmindful of praise or blame, Through tedious tasks to a lofty aim, Guiding small feet as they forward plod In paths of duty that lead to God? If Christ should come to my workshop to-day, What would he think, what would he say? Would his eye, as it glanced my work along, See that all its parts were stanch and strong, Closely fitted, firm-welded, and good, Of flawless steel and of unwarped wood, As sound as I trust my soul shall be When tried by the test of eternity? If Christ should come to my kitchen to-day, What would he think, what would he say? Would he find me with blithesome and grateful heart And hands well-skilled in the housewife’s art, Bearing sordid cares with a spirit sweet, And making the lowliest tasks complete? Cometh he not, who of old did say, “Lo, I am with you, my friends, alway”? O thought that our weary hearts must thrill, In our toilsome ways he is present still! At counter and forge, in office and field, He stands, to no mortal eye revealed. Ah, if we only could realize That ever those gentle yet searching eyes Gaze on our work with approval or blame, Our slipshod lives would not be the same! For, thrilled by the gaze of the unseen Guest, In our daily toil we would do our best. |
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