On His Blindness

Poems, 1673

When I consider how my light is spent,E're half my days, in this dark world and wide,And that one Talent which is death to hide,Lodg'd with me useless, though my Soul more bentTo serve therewith my Maker, and presentMy true account, least he returning chide,Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd,I fondly ask ; But patience to preventThat murmur, soon replies, God doth not needEither man's work or his own gifts, who bestBear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his StateIs Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speedAnd post o're Land and Ocean without rest:They also serve who only stand and waite.

«On His Blindness» (Sonnet 16 in the 1673 Poems; Sonnet 19 in modern editions), via the English Wikisource transcription. The original 17th-century spelling is kept.

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About the poem

Milton wrote this sonnet blind. He asks, in anguish, how to serve God now that his light «is spent» before half his days are done, «that one Talent which is death to hide» lodged useless within him: «Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?»

But Patience answers before the complaint is out: God needs neither man's work nor his gifts; «who best / Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best». And the famous closing line sums it up: «They also serve who only stand and wait.» Faith understood as waiting.