It is not the work but the worry, That drives all sleep away. As we toss and turn and wonder, About the cares of he day. Do we think of the hands hard labour, or the steps of the tired feet? Ah not, but we plan and wonder, How to make both ends meet. It is not the work, but worry That makes us troubled and sad. That makes us narrow and sordid, When we should be cheery and glad. It is not the work, but the worry, that makes the world grow old. That numbers the years of its children, Ere half their story is told, that weakens their faith in heaven. And the wisdom of God's great plan Ah! it is not the work but worry, that makes the heart of man.