Take no thought for the morrow, the Saviour hath said,
And he spake as ne'er man spake before;
"He carried our sorrows," "was acquainted with grief,"
And knew well what the heart could endure.
Let the morrow take care for the things of itself,
And not by its weight crush thee down;
Sufficient to-day is the evil thereof,
Let the ills of to-morrow alone.
Neither boast of to-morrow, for what is thy life,
But a vapor that floateth away;
Like a tale quickly told, or a dream of the night,
That departs at the breaking of day.
Be not like the man who once said in his heart,
"I have goods that are laid by for years;"
But scarce had he planned how they best might be stored,
When he dies and leaves all to his heirs.
Neither dread then, nor boast of to-morrow, my soul,
But make most of the time that's now given;
Be the ground well prepared, with good seed sown thereon,
And 'twill yield a rich harvest in heaven.
Jan. 24, 1853.