The fifth Communion is with the Angel of Work
The Angel of Work,
Who sings in the humming of the bee,
Pausing not in its making of golden honey;
In the flute of the shepherd,
Who sleeps not lest his flock go astray;
In the song of the maiden
As she lays her hand to the spindle.
And if you think that these
Are not as fair in the eyes of the Lord
As the loftiest of prayers
Echoed from the highest mountain,
Then you do indeed err.
For the honest work of humble hands
Is a daily prayer of thanksgiving,
And the music of the plough
Is a joyful song unto the Lord.
He who eats the bread of idleness
must die of hunger,
For a field of stones
Can yield only stones.
For him is the day without meaning,
And the night a bitter journey of evil dreams.
The mind of the idle
Is full of the weeds of discontent;
But he who walks with the
Angel of Work
Has within him a field always fertile,
Where corn and grapes
And all manner of sweet-scented
Herbs and flowers grow in abundance.
As ye sow, so shall ye reap.
The man of God who has found his task
Shall not ask any other blessing.