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