The work is great, the laborers few
       to work and dress My garden anew.
"I want this job, I want that,"
       is what I hear when I look back.
I ask one to hoe here and one over there
       and each work hard and do their share.
But no matter where, it's all hoeing weeds,
       the cutting away of man's wicked deeds.
Yes, whether one hoes there or here,
       is not what brings My heart cheer.
If I could just get them all to see,
       where one hoes, makes no difference to Me.
And rewards come not for where they hoed,
       only how well so new seeds could be sowed.