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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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What is his will?--that I may go

And do it, in the hope

That light will rise and spread and grow,

As deed enlarges scope.

I need not search the sacred book

To find my duty clear;

Scarce in my bosom need I look,

It lies so very near.

Henceforward I must watch the door

Of word and action too;

There's one thing I must do no more,

Another I must do.

Alas, these are such little things!

No glory in their birth!

Doubt from their common aspect springs--

If God will count them worth.

here I am not left to choose, My duty is my lot;
weighty things will glory lose If small ones are forgot.

I am not worthy high things yet;

I'll humbly do my own;

Good care of sheep may so beget

A fitness for the throne.

Ah fool! why dost thou reason thus?

Ambition's very fool!

Through high and low, each glorious,

Shines God's all-perfect rule.

'Tis God I need, not rank in good:

'Tis Life, not honour's meed;

With him to fill my every mood,

I am content indeed.

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