  OF all the tender guards which Jesus drew About our frail humanity, to stay The pressure and the jostle that alway Are ready to disturb, whate’er we do, And mar the work our hands would carry through, None more than this environs us each day With kindly wardenship—“Therefore, I say, Take no thought for the morrow.” Yet we pay The wisdom scanty heed, and impotent To bear the burden of the imperious Now, Assume the future’s exigence unsent. God grants no overplus of power; ’tis shed Like morning manna. Yet we dare to bow And ask, “Give us to-day our morrow’s bread!” —Selected. double line
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