Chapter 137
_Go Armed with Christ_
He said, "I come, O G.o.d, to do thy will."
Shall we not, likewise, all his word fulfill, And find a weapon firm 'gainst every ill?
Put on the Lord.
_Be True, Be Sweet_
Let not the conflict make thee sour or sad; Swerve not from battle: faithful, loyal, glad-- The likeness of our Saviour may be had.
Aim high, press on!
--James Mudge.
Forenoon and afternoon and night,--Forenoon, And afternoon, and night,--Forenoon, and--what?
The empty song repeats itself. No more?
Yea, that is Life: make this forenoon sublime, This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer, And Time is conquered, and thy crown is won.
--Edward Rowland Sill.
I PACK MY TRUNK
What shall I pack up to carry From the old year to the new?
I'll leave out the frets that harry, Thoughts unjust and doubts untrue.
Angry words--ah, how I rue them!
Selfish deeds and choices blind; Any one is welcome to them!
I shall leave them all behind.
Plans? the trunk would need be double.
Hopes? they'd burst the stoutest lid.
Sharp ambitions? last year's stubble!
Take them, old year! Keep them hid!
All my fears shall be forsaken, All my failures manifold; Nothing gloomy shall be taken To the new year from the old.
But I'll pack the sweet remembrance Of dear Friends.h.i.+p's least delight; All my jokes--I'll carry _them_ hence; All my store of fancies bright;
My contentment--would 'twere greater!
All the courage I possess; All my trust--there's not much weight there!
All my faith, or more, or less;
All my tasks; I'll not abandon One of these--nay pride, my health; Every trivial or grand one Is a n.o.ble mine of wealth.
And I'll pack my choicest treasures: Smiles I've seen and praises heard, Memories of unselfish pleasures, Cheery looks, the kindly word.
Ah, my riches silence cavil!
To my rags I bid adieu!
Like a Croesus I shall travel From the old year to the new!
--Amos R. Wells.
The stars s.h.i.+ne over the earth, The stars s.h.i.+ne over the sea; The
The stars have lived for a million years A million years and a day; But G.o.d and I shall love and live When the stars have pa.s.sed away.
OPPORTUNITY RENEWED
They do me wrong who say I come no more When once I knock and fail to find you in; For every day I stand outside your door And bid you wake and ride to fight and win.
Wail not for precious chances pa.s.sed away, Weep not for golden ages on the wane!
Each night I burn the records of the day; At sunrise every soul is born again.
Laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped, To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb; My judgments seal the dead past with its dead But never bind a moment yet to come.
Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep; I lend my arm to all who say "I can!"
No shamefaced outcast ever sank so deep But yet might rise and be again a man.
Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast?
Dost reel from righteous retribution's blow?
Then turn from blotted archives of the past And find the future's pages white as snow.
Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell!
Art thou a sinner? Sins may be forgiven!
Each morning gives thee wings to flee from h.e.l.l, Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven.
--Walter Malone.
Though life is made up of mere bubbles 'Tis better than many aver, For while we've a whole lot of troubles The most of them never occur.
--Nixon Waterman.
A happy lot must sure be his-- The lord, not slave, of things-- Who values life by what it is And not by what it brings.
--John Sterling.
A BUILDER'S LESSON
"How shall I a habit break?"
As you did that habit make.
As you gathered you must lose; As you yielded, now refuse.
Thread by thread the strands we twist Till they bind us neck and wrist; Thread by thread the patient hand Must untwine ere free we stand.
As we builded, stone by stone, We must toil--unhelped, alone-- Till the wall is overthrown.
But remember: as we try, Lighter every test goes by; Wading in, the stream grows deep Toward the center's downward sweep; Backward turn--each step ash.o.r.e Shallower is than that before.
Ah, the precious years we waste Leveling what we raised in haste; Doing what must be undone Ere content or love be won!
First across the gulf we cast Kite-borne threads, till lives are pa.s.sed, And habit builds the bridge at last!