Joy, sweet joy, to be the Lord’s own helper,
Bearing the Gospel tidings on its way;
Blessed indeed to be a chosen vessel,
Fit for His use, tho’ made of earthly clay.
Sweet, oh, sweet shall be the joy of working;
Waiting upon the Lord is our delight;
Gladly we toil, nor call the toiling labor;
Heart joined with hand makes ev’ry labor light.
We would bear His Spirit in our bosoms,
Working without a hope of earthly gain;
Surely enough to Him to be of service,
Giving, we shall the best of all attain.
Ella Rockwood/Arr. from Russel, by T.M.T.