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by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

   I leave with God to-morrow’s where and how,
   And do concern myself but with the Now,
   That little word, though half the future’s length,
   Well used, holds twice its meaning and its strength.

   Like one blindfolded groping out his way,
   I will not try to touch beyond to-day.
   Since all the future is concealed from sight
   I need but strive to make the next step right.

   That done, the next, and so on, till I find
   Perchance some day I am no longer blind,
   And looking up, behold a radiant Friend
   Who says, “Rest, now, for you have reached the end.”

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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