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
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more
To serve therewith my Maker, and
My true account, lest He returning chide,"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"I fondly ask;
But patience, to
That murmur, soon replies "God doth not
Either man's work or his own gifts.
Who
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best.
His
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."'(line 3:
And that one talent which is death to hide,...):
He speaks here with allusion to the parable of the talents,
Mat.
XV. and he speaks with great modesty of himself, as if he had not five, or two, but only one talent.'~ Th.
Newton,
Milton's Works, 2nd edition, 1753.
