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.