On many an idle day

On many an idle day

have I grieved over lost time.

But it is never lost, my lord.

Thou hast taken every moment of my life

in thine own hands.

Hidden in the heart of things

thou art nourishing

seeds into sprouts,

buds into blossoms,

and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.

I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed

and imagined all work had ceased.

In the morning I woke up

and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.