I Oh, how shall I help to right the world that is going wrong!
And what can I do to hurry the promised time of peace!
The day of work is short and the night of sleep is long;
And whether to pray or preach, or whether to sing a song,
To plow in my neighbor's field, or to seek the golden fleece,
Or to sit with my hands in my lap, and wish that ill would cease! II I think, sometimes, it were best just to let the Lord alone;
I am sure some people forget He was here before they came;
Though they say it is all for His glory, 't is a good deel more for their own,
That they peddle their petty schemes, and blate and babble and groan.
I sometimes think it were best, and I were little to blame,
Should I sit with my hands in my lap, in my face a crimson shame.