Little Nothings

Little nothings,—do them, do them,From the heart, and with a will;What though only God may view them?Do them, do them, do them still.

Little nothings,—do them, do them,Every hour, and all the day;Thou wilt ne'er regret or rue them,Strewing flowers in others' way.

Little nothings,—do them, do them,Though some sacrifice they cost;Life itself, the good Book tells us,Found is, only when 'tis lost.

Little nothings,—and what are they?Smile for smile, and tear for tear;Kindly word and timely succor,Help to all, or far or near.

Widow's mite, and cup of water,Who than these could offer less?Yet the glorious, great All-Good One,Gift and giver deigns to bless.

Little nothings,—seeming triflesOf our lives, make up the sum;In the soul they make sweet music,Speaking when the lips are dumb.

Little nothings,—do them, do them,From the heart, and with a will;What though only God may view them?Do them, do them, do them still.