some thoughts

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 5
   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 10
   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.”

And so I stand, Lord, and wait.