He that is slothful in his work is brother to him that is a great waster—Prov. 18: 9.


We cannot see wastefulness in any of the Lord's consecrated people without feeling that, however great progress they have made in understanding the mind of the Lord in some respects, they are still deficient in this particular. An appreciation of the gift and respect for the Giver implies carefulness and a stewardship in respect to all that comes to us from our Heavenly Father—things temporal and things spiritual. According to our Lord's parables, He is measuring our love and zeal in a considerable degree by our use or abuse of the talents, opportunities, blessings, temporal and spiritual, now bestowed upon us.


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The spirit of the slothful man is that of waste. He wastes his time, which is precious and irredeemable. He wastes his talents, which are improvable. He wastes his opportunities, which flee to others. He wastes his energy, which rusts from inactivity. He wastes his reputation, which may never return. He wastes his friends, who forsake him. He wastes his possessions, which are taken from him. He wastes his character, which debases him. He wastes his life, which is taken from him. He wastes eternity, which is lost to him. Let slothfulness, therefore, be far from us, as saints of the Lord.


Parallel passages: Prov. 6: 6-11; 10: 4, 5, 26; 12: 11, 24, 27; 13: 4; 15: 19; 19: 15, 24; 20: 4, 13; 21: 5, 25; 22: 29; 23: 21; 24: 30-34; 26: 13-16; 27: 23-27; 30: 25-28; 31: 13-27; Eccles. 10: 18; Isa. 56: 10; Matt. 25: 26, 27; Rom. 12: 11; Eph. 4: 28; 1Thes. 4: 11, 12; 2Thes. 3: 10-12; Heb. 6: 12; 1Tim. 5: 8.


Questions: What has this text meant to me this week? How did I respond to its thought? What were the results?




THE Lord of the Harvest walked forth one day,

Where the fields were white with the ripening wheat,

Where those He had sent in the early morn

Were reaping the grain in the noonday heat.

He had chosen a place for every one,

And bidden them work till the day was done.


Apart from the others, with troubled voice,

Spake one who had gathered no golden grain:

"The Master hath given no work to me,

and my coming hither hath been in vain;

 The reapers with gladness and song will come,

But no sheaves will be mine in the harvest home."


He heard the complaint, and He called her name:

"Dear child, why standest thou idle here?

Go fill the cup from the hillside stream,

And bring it to those who are toiling near;

I will bless thy labor, and it shall be

Kept in remembrance as done for Me."


'Twas a little service, but grateful hearts

Thanked God for the water so cold and clear;

And some who were fainting with thirst and heat,

Went forth with new strength to the work so dear;

And many a weary soul looked up,

Revived and cheered by the little cup.


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