DON'T WORRY
Just do your best,
And leave the rest
To Him who gave you
Life,—
And Zeal for Labour,—
And the Joy of Strife,—
And Zest of Love,—
And all that lifts your soul above
The lower things.
Life's truest harvest is in what we would,
And strive our best for,
Not most in what we could.
The things we count supreme
Stand, haply, not so high
In God's esteem
As How and Why.
All-Seeing Sight
Cleaves through the husk of things,
Right to the Roots and Springs,—
Sees all things whole,
And measures less the body than the soul.
All-Righteous Right
Will weigh men's motives,
Not their deeds alone.
End and Beginning unto Him are one;
And would for could shall oft, perchance, atone.
Motives are seeds,
From which at times spring deeds
Not equal to the soul's outreaching hope.
Strive for the stars!
Count nought well done but best!
Then, with brave patience, leave the rest
To Him who knows.
He'll judge you justly ere the record close.
THE GOLDEN ROSE
The Golden Rose is blowing still,
Is growing still, is glowing still,
In lonely vale, on lordly hill,
The Golden Rose is glowing still;—
If only you can find it!
The Golden Rose still breaks and blows,
Still breaks and blows, still gleams and glows,
'Mid icy blasts, and wintry snows,
The Golden Rose still breaks and blows;—
Search w ell and you may find it!
The Golden Rose can never die,
'Tis grafted on Eternity;
In hearts that Love doth glorify,
The Golden Rose can never die,—
May it be yours to find it!