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ees, by more and more, The cloudy summits of our time. The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they while their companions slept Were toiling upward in the night. Standing on what too long we bore With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, We may discern--unseen before-- A path to higher destinies, Nor deem the irrevocable Past As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain. --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. REWARD OF FAITHFULNESS The deeds which selfish hearts approve And fame's loud trumpet sings Secure no praise where truth and love Are counted noblest things; And work which godless folly deems Worthless, obscure, and lowly, To Heaven's ennobling vision seems Most godlike, grand, and holy. Then murmur not if toils obscure And thorny paths be thine; To God be true--they shall secure The joy of life divine Who in the darkest, sternest sphere For Him their powers employ; The toils contemned and slighted here Shall yield the purest joy. When endless day dispels the strife Which blinds and darkens now, Perchance the brightest crown of life Shall deck some lowly brow. Then learn, despite thy boding fears, From seed with sorrow sown, In love, obscurity and tears The richest sheaves are grown. --Edward Hartley Dewart. "DOE THE NEXTE THYNGE" From an old English parsonage Down by the sea, There came in the twilight A message to me; Its quaint Saxon legend Deeply engraven, Hath as it seems to me Teaching for heaven; And on through the hours The quiet words ring, Like a low inspiration, "Doe the nexte thynge." Many a questioning, Many a fear, Many a doubt, Hath guiding here. Moment by moment Let down from heaven, Time, opportunity, Guidance are given. Fear not to-morrow, Child of the King; Trust it with Jesus, "Doe the nexte thynge." O He would have thee Daily more free, Knowing the might Of thy royal degree; Ever in waiting, Glad for his call, Tranquil in chastening, Trusting through all. Comings and goings No turmoil need
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