Occupy till I come.

— Luke 19:13 (KJV)

When shadows lengthen and the world doth quake,
With rumour’d signs that bid the heart to fear,
Some watch with fevered gaze, lest they should wake
Unready at the trumpet none may hear.
Yet He who hung upon the accursèd tree
And cried, ” ‘Tis finish’d!” in His dying breath,
Hath wrought complete what none could do but He—
Our pardon, peace, our victory o’er death.

No more we toil to earn what grace hath giv’n,
Nor cower ‘neath the weight of coming doom;
In Him we stand accepted, sons of heav’n,
Secure within the veil, beyond the tomb.
Thus bids the Master, ere He took His flight:
“Occupy till I come”—with labour bright.

Steward the mina, multiply the gift,
Not fearing loss, but flowing from His life;
Build, love, disciple—let thy spirit lift
The fallen, point them to the risen Christ.
No anxious vigil mars the soul set free;
The cross hath seal’d our place eternally.

Then let the tempests roar, the nations rage,
The days grow dark with portent of the end—
Our hope is blessèd, not a fearful stage,
But glory’s dawn where every tear shall mend.
Till then, abide in labour sweet and sure:
The King returns—yet we are His, secure.

In quiet trust, occupy the given field,
With joy unbound, for grace hath all reveal’d.