
At an old English
parsonage down by the sea,
there came in the
twilight a message to me.
Its quaint Saxon
legend deeply engraven that,
as it seems to me,
teaching from heaven.
And all through the
hours the quiet words ring,
like a low
inspiration, ‘Do the next thing.’
Many a questioning,
many a fear,
many a doubt hath
its quieting here.
Moment by moment,
let down from heaven,
time, opportunity,
guidance are given.
Fear not tomorrow,
child of the King,
trust that with
Jesus, do the next thing.
Do it immediately,
do it with prayer,
do it reliantly,
casting all care.
Do it with
reverence, tracing His hand,
who placed it before
thee with earnest command.
Stayed on
omnipotence, safe ‘neath His wing,
leave all
resultings, do the next thing.
Looking to Jesus,
ever serener,
working or suffering
be thy demeanor,
in His dear
presence, the rest of His calm,
the light of His
countenance, be thy psalm.
Do the next thing.
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