Motherhood
by David J. Stewart | May 2016
The following excellent writing is from the, “SWORD SCRAPBOOK II” (a compilation by Dr. Viola Walden of bits of wisdom, Scriptures, devotion and truths from THE SWORD OF THE LORD articles written by Dr. John R. Rice over the decades.
The book was published in 1969. The Sword Of The Lord was founded in 1934. WHAT A BLESSING!
The following excellent comparison is from page 88. The author is unknown:
Motherhood
Two Sides of the Question . . .
| The One Side | The Other Side |
|
It's such a waste of time to
cook, I'm just a walking cookery book. I make and bake the morning through The favorite pies and puddings, too. And then, in half an hour, or less My toil is gone to nothingness. It's waste of time to dust the stairs, To clean the brass, and polish the chairs, To seep, and pick up bits of fluff, For nothing's ever clean enough. Five minutes after I have done, Someone is sure to romp and run, Kick out the stair-rods, flick the mats. And slam the doors and scare the cats. Some sticky hand is sure to press The brasses from their sprightliness. I tidy up, and do the dusting, But all the while, my wings are rusting. The, washing day, it seems to me, It's just a waste of energy. What use to stand before a tub And soak and rinse, and blue and rub? Next week the self-same garment's stain Will come into my hands again. It's such a waste of time to mend, One has no sooner reached the end Of last week's pile, then—need you ask it? This week's fills up the mending basket. The stockings which were hale and hearty Return from each picnicking party Week and worn and wanly show Great gaping holes in heel and toe, While buttons have a cantankerous way Of disappearing every day. Sponging off the spots and ironing creases Between it all I'm worn to pieces. Woman, from cradle to grave, Is nothing but a galley slave. |
I've done an angel's work
today! Yes, such an honor came my way. Real angel's work! And, lest you doubt it, I'm going to tell you all about it. Well, first, I cooked. It was so nice To plan the pies, stewed fruit, and rice. God sent His angel once to make Cakes for a poor wayfarer's sake. But, just today He honored me, And sent the task my way, you see. Then, while I tidied up the place, Gave every knob a radiant face, Back of my mind this thought would lurk, That I was still at angel's work. Putting away coats and dresses, And moving small unsightlinesses. For, oh! 'tis such a lovesome thing, Just straightening out, and freshening. And after that I washed a few Small woolly garments, old, not new, Things I had rubbed and rinsed before Quite forty times, or even more. And as I hung them on the line I thought what God-like work was mine! To cleanse—ah, me! —to wash out stains Till not a single speck remains. So, later in the day, 'twas sweet To sit and rest my tired feet Mending the clothes, and plan out, too, How to make old things into new. For surely 'tis an angel's way To put things right from day to day, To find thin places, and repair The glad rags and the sturdy wear. Since wear and tear must surely be On this side of Eternity, I'm feeling very proud to say I've done an angel's work today! |
Author unknown
