Sunday, January 29, 2012

On His Blindness

'When I consider how my light is spent
      Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
      And that one Talent which is death to hide
      Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
      My true account, lest He returning chide,
     "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
      I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
      Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best
      Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,
      And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
      They also serve who only stand and wait."'

~John Milton

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