'T is the brook's motion

'T is loving and serving The Highest and Best! 'T is onwards! unswerving, And that is true rest.

Is not true leisure One with true toil?

Work, and thou wilt bless the day Ere the toil be done; They that work not, can not pray, Can not feel the sun. God is living, working still, All things work and move;

Rest is not quitting The busy career, Rest is the fitting Of self to one's sphere.

The scene was changed. It was a bark that slowly held its way, And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay; And on its deck a lady sat, who gazed with tearful eyes Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise.

So All is diff’rent, and yet All is One.