Hide not thy talent in the earth,
However small it be,
Its faithful use, its utmost worth,
He will require of thee.
The humblest service rendered here
He will as truly own,
As Paul's, in his exalted sphere,
Or Gabriel's, near the throne.
The cup of water kindly given,
The widow's cheerful mites,
Are worthier, in the eye of Heaven,
Than pride's most costly rites.
His own, which he hath lent on trust,
He asks of thee again;
Little or much, the claim is just,
And thine excuses vain.
Go, then, and strive to do thy part—
Though humble it may be,
The ready hand, the willing heart,
Are all Heaven asks of thee.
