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THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO

“Missionary Gems” — A collection of short poems
Compiled from various sources — Gospel Trumpet Company
I looked o’er life’s great harvest-field
And thought, “What can I do?”
The needs are great, the fields are white,
But laborers are few.

I can not be a Spurgeon or
A Whitefield, great and wise,
Who swayed the multitudes and wrote
Their names upon the skies.

If I could preach like sainted Paul
Or write up something new,
I’d only be too glad; but, oil,
There’s nothing I can do.

If I could start in life anew
And have a higher aim,
I might accomplish more and reach
Some pinnacle of fame.

Or, if my parents had been great
Or ancestry been wise,
The blood that’s in my veins might surge
And waft me to the skies.

But time is short, my means are small,
And talents very few;
So in despair I sit and say,
“There’s nothing I can do.”

But, hark! I hear from out the gloom,
“Whate’er is done by thee
To one of those, my little ones,
Is done as unto me.”

The little things shall be my work,
His praise alone I’ll view,
Nor will I ever sadly say,
“There’s nothing I can do.”

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