Classic Poem

Nothing, either great or small,
Nothing, sinner, no;
Jesus did it, did it all,
Long, long ago.

When He from His lofty throne
Stooped to do and die,
Everything was fully done;
Hearken to His cry—

“It is finished!” Yes, indeed!
Finished every jot.
Sinner, this is all you need;
Tell me is it not?

Weary, working, burdened one,
Wherefore toil you so?
Cease your doing; all was done
Long, long ago.

Till to Jesus' work you cling,
By a simple faith,
“Doing” is a deadly thing—
“Doing” ends in death.

Cast your deadly “doing” down—
Down at Jesus' feet;
Stand “in Him,” in Him alone,
Gloriously “complete!”