Martha's Hands & Mary's Heart

I must have the hands of Martha; Hands that scrub and cook and sew;
I can have the heart of Mary while I do these things, you know;
Though my hands are in the dishpan, this soul of mine can soar;
And in thoughts sublime and lofty go right up to heaven's door.

I must cook, oh endless dinners, for dear ones have to eat;
But my soul need not be cooking --It can sit at Jesus' feet!
Help me, God, while doing duties, against which my soul rebels;
Meekly still to peel potatoes, but not to grovel in the shells.
Grant me, God, 'mid things prosaic, Ere to choose the better part;
Grant that while I must be "Martha", I can have a "Mary" heart.

Author Unknown