Are you thankful for the walls you have to wash, toilets that have to be cleaned, floors which should be swept, and laundry which needs to be hung on the line? Each of these chores has a lesson for us, if we just look. All we have to do is seek the Lord and ask for his wisdom, and the most dreary job can become joyous! Let us be thankful, not only for the great things, but also the small blessings and a home to serve our family in!
And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him. Colossians 3:17
This is a poem we found in one of our old books from the 1800’s. We have republished it on our ministry's website www.titus2ministry.com I thought perhaps you may enjoy reading it here on my blog. It speaks much to our heart, to be thankful in all things!
Blessings on your home and family, Lyn
The Farmer's Wife
The farmer came in from the field one day; His languid step and his weary way, His bent brow, his sinewy hand, All showed his work for the good of the land; For he sows, And he hoes, And he mows, All for the good of the land.
By the kitchen fire stood his patient wife, Light of his home and joy of his life, With face all aglow and busy hand, Preparing the meal for her husband's band. For she must boil, And she must broil, And she must toil, All for the good of the home.
The bright sun shines when the farmer goes out, The birds sing sweet songs, lambs frisk about; The brook babbles softly in the glen, While he works so bravely for the good of men: For he sows, And he mows, And he hoes, All for the good of the land.
How briskly the wife steps about within, The dishes to wash, the milk to skim; The fire goes out, flies buzz about-- For the dear ones at home her heart is kept stout; There are pies to make, There is bread to bake, And steps to take, All for the sake of the home.
When the day is o'er, and the evening is come, The creatures are fed, the milking done, He takes his rest 'neath the old shade tree, From the labor of the land his thoughts are free; Though he sows, And he hoes, And he mows, He rests from the work of the land.
But the faithful wife, from sun to sun, Takes her burden up that's never done; There is no rest, there is no play, For the good of the house she must work away; For to mend the frock,, And to knit the sock, And the cradle to rock, All for the good of the home.
When autumn is here, with its chilling blast, The farmer gathers his crop at last; His barns are full, his fields are bare, For the good of the land he ne'er hath care, While it blows, And it snows, Till winter goes, He rests from the work of the land.
But the willing wife, till life's closing day, Is the children's guide, the husband's stay; From day to day she has done her best, Until death alone can give her rest; For after the test Comes the rest, With the blest, In the farmer's heavenly home.
|