Classic Poem

There is a niche provided
For every man;
Each makes his contribution
In God's great plan;
Let no one feel superfluous
In that vast scheme,
However small and hidden
His life may seem.
Some must go forth to battle;
Some mind the camp;
Some cross the mighty billows;
Some tend the lamp,
And keep their lonely vigil
Till break of day,
To guide some storm-tossed vessel
Upon its way.
Some serve their generation;
Some, those unborn;
Some lose their lives in secret
Like buried corn;
Some sow their fields with weeping;
Some reap the grain
And fill their barns with plenty
From others' pain.
Dear Master, Thine appointments
To me are sweet,
If I'm but for Thy service
A vessel meet;
In labors more abundant,
Or out of sight,
Thine openings and shuttings
Are always right.