While others prayed for the good time coming, I worked for it.

The words of Victoria Woodhull, “While others prayed for the good time coming, I worked for it,” blaze with the fire of determination and defiance. They are not the idle boast of one who speaks without action, but the cry of a woman who dared to wrestle with the entrenched powers of her age. In this quote, Woodhull declares a truth that has echoed through all generations: that hope without labor is but a dream, and prayer without action is an empty echo. She proclaims that the “good time” does not arrive by chance, nor by the pleas of the timid, but by the tireless effort of those bold enough to create it.

The origin of these words lies in the stormy life of Victoria Woodhull herself—activist, orator, and the first woman to run for President of the United States in 1872. She lived in an age when women were silenced, barred from the ballot, chained by convention. Yet she refused to wait for freedom to descend from the heavens. While others whispered and wished, she raised her voice, founded newspapers, championed women’s suffrage, and shattered the silence. Her words are not abstract philosophy, but the lived conviction of one who fought for what others only dreamed.

The ancients too knew this truth. The poet Hesiod wrote that “the gods help those who help themselves,” reminding us that even divine favor falls upon the diligent. The farmer who prayed for harvest but did not till the soil received only famine. Likewise, Woodhull warns that those who pray for change while standing idle shall never taste its fruits. The “good time” belongs not to the passive, but to the worker, the struggler, the one who dares to place her hands upon the wheel of destiny.

History abounds with examples. Consider Frederick Douglass, born in chains yet refusing to remain bound. He might have prayed endlessly for freedom, but he coupled prayer with action: learning to read, fleeing slavery, and raising his voice until nations trembled at his eloquence. Like Woodhull, Douglass understood that liberation does not descend gently upon the waiting—it is seized by the determined. His life, like hers, embodies the principle that the “good time” must be built with one’s own hands.

The meaning of Woodhull’s teaching is therefore clear: that longing and words alone cannot transform the world. Progress is not the reward of those who wait, but the crown of those who labor. To pray for justice is noble, but to act for justice is divine. To dream of freedom is beautiful, but to fight for freedom is holy. Her words remind us that true faith is not passive—it is proven in sweat, sacrifice, and courage.

The lesson for us is this: do not wait for better days, but work to make them. Do not imagine that history is shaped by chance or fate; it is shaped by those who dare to act when others stand still. When your heart longs for change, ask not only what you wish, but what you will do. For the difference between prayer alone and prayer with action is the difference between shadows and substance, between hope deferred and hope fulfilled.

Practical action lies close at hand. If you desire a better world, take one step each day toward building it. If you long for justice, defend the weak. If you dream of progress, labor with your hands, your mind, and your voice. Do not wait for permission, nor for the approval of the crowd, but work with the conviction that even small acts of courage become the seeds of great change.

Thus, in the voice of the ancients, we proclaim: Blessed are those who labor while others only pray, for they shall bring forth the dawn. Blessed are those who work for the good time, for they shall live to see it rise. And let us remember always the wisdom of Victoria Woodhull: that the future does not arrive by wishing—it is born of work, and only those who labor for it will inherit its light.