Effort

EFFORT

Scorn not the slightest word nor deed,
Nor deem it void of power;
There's fruit in each wind-wafted seed,
That waits its natal hour.

A whispered word may touch the heart.
And call it back to life;
A look of love bid sin depart,
And still unholy strife.

No act falls fruitless; none can tell
How vast its powers may be,
Nor what results, unfolded, dwell
Within it, silently.

Work on, - despair not, - bring thy mite,
Nor care how small it be;
God is with all who serve the right,
The holy, true, and free.