Part 25

Promotion comes to him who tries Not solely for a selfish prize, But day by day and year by year Holds his employer's interests dear. Who measures not by what he earns The sum of labor he returns, Nor counts his day of toiling through Till he's done all that he can do. His strength is not of muscle bred, But of the heart and of the head. The man who would the top attain Must demonstrate he has a brain.

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EXPECTATION

Most folks, as I've noticed, in pleasure an' strife, Are always expecting too much out of life. They wail an' they fret Just because they don't get The best o' the sunshine, the fairest o' flowers, The finest o' features, the strongest o' powers; They whine an' they whimper an' curse an' condemn, Coz life isn't always being' partial to them.

Notwithstandin' the pain an' the sufferin' they see, They cling to the notion that they should go free: That they shouldn't share In life's trouble an' care But should always be happy an' never perplexed, An' never discouraged or beaten or vexed. When life treats 'em roughly an' jolts 'em with care, They seem to imagine it's bein' unfair.

It's a curious notion folks hold in their pride, That their souls should never be tested or tried; That others must mourn An' be sick an' forlorn An' stand by the biers of their loved ones an' weep, But life from such sorrows their bosoms must keep. Oh, they mustn't know what it means to be sad, Or they'll wail that the treatment they're gettin' is bad.

Now life as I view it means pleasure an' pain, An' laughter an' weepin' an' sunshine an' rain, An' takin' an' givin'; An' all who are livin' Must face it an' bear it the best that they can Believin' great Wisdom is workin' the plan. An' no one should ever complain it's unfair Because at the moment he's tastin' despair.

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HARD WORK

One day, in ages dark and dim, A toiler, weary, worn and faint, Who found his task too much for him, Gave voice unto a sad complaint. And seeking emphasis to give Unto his trials (day-starred!) Coupled to "work" this adjective, This little word of terror: Hard.

And from that day to this has work Its frightening description worn; 'Tis spoken daily by the shirk, The first cloud on the sky at morn. To-day when there are tasks to do, Save that we keep ourselves on guard With fearful doubtings them we view, And think and speak of them as hard.

That little but ill-chosen word Has wrought great havoc with men's souls, Has chilled the hearts ambition stirred And held the pass to splendid goals. Great dreams have faded and been lost, Fine youth by it been sadly marred As plants beneath a withering frost, Because men thought and whispered: "Hard."

Let's think of work in terms of hope And speak of it with words of praise, And tell the joy it is to grope Along the new, untrodden ways! Let's break this habit of despair And cheerfully our task regard; The road to happiness lies there: Why think or speak of it as hard?

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GRATITUDE

Be grateful for the kindly friends that walk along your way; Be grateful for the skies of blue that smile from day to day; Be grateful for the health you own, the work you find to do, For round about you there are men less fortunate than you.

Be grateful for the growing trees, the roses soon to bloom, The tenderness of kindly hearts that shared your days of gloom; Be grateful for the morning dew, the grass beneath your feet, The soft caresses of your babes and all their laughter sweet.

Acquire the grateful habit, learn to see how blest you are, How much there is to gladden life, how little life to mar! And what if rain shall fall to-day and you with grief are sad; Be grateful that you can recall the joys that you have had.

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A REAL MAN

Men are of two kinds, and he Was of the kind I'd like to be. Some preach their virtues, and a few Express their lives by what they do. That sort was he. No flowery phrase Or glibly spoken words of praise Won friends for him. He wasn't cheap Or shallow, but his course ran deep, And it was pure. You know the kind. Not many in a life you find Whose deeds outrun their words so far That more than what they seem they are.

There are two kinds of lies as well: The kind you live, the ones you tell. Back through his years from age to youth He never acted one untruth. Out in the open light he fought And didn't care what others thought Nor what they said about his fight If he believed that he was right. The only deeds he ever hid Were acts of kindness that he did.

What speech he had was plain and blunt. His was an unattractive front. Yet children loved him; babe and boy Played with the strength he could employ, Without one fear, and they are fleet To sense injustice and deceit. No back door gossip linked his name With any shady tale of shame. He did not have to compromise With evil-doers, shrewd and wise, And let them ply their vicious trade Because of some past escapade.

Men are of two kinds, and he Was of the kind I'd like to be. No door at which he ever knocked Against his manly form was locked. If ever man on earth was free And independent, it was he. No broken pledge lost him respect, He met all men with head erect, And when he passed I think there went A soul to yonder firmament So white, so splendid and so fine It came almost to God's design.

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THE NEIGHBORLY MAN

Some are eager to be famous, some are striving to be great, Some are toiling to be leaders of their nation or their state, And in every man's ambition, if we only understood, There is much that's fine and splendid; every hope is mostly good. So I cling unto the notion that contented I will be If the men upon life's pathway find a needed friend in me.

I rather like to putter 'round the walks and yards of life, To spray at night the roses that are burned and browned with strife; To eat a frugal dinner, but always to have a chair For the unexpected stranger that my simple meal would share. I don't care to be a traveler, I would rather be the one Sitting calmly by the roadside helping weary travelers on.