Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul. Various

of sun

      And count the things that we have done,

      And counting, find

      One self-denying act, one word

      That eased the heart of him who heard,

      One glance most kind,

      That fell like sunshine where it went,

      Then we may count the day well spent.

      But if through all the livelong day

      We've eased no heart by yea or nay;

      If through it all

      We've nothing done that we can trace

      That brought the sunshine to a face,

      No act most small

      That helped some soul, and nothing cost,

      Then count that day as worse than lost.

      ———

      This for the day of life I ask:

      Some all-absorbing, useful task;

      And when 'tis wholly, truly done,

      A tranquil rest at set of sun.

      ———

      SERVICE

      Ah! grand is the world's work, and noble, forsooth,

      The doing one's part, be it ever so small!

      You, reaping with Boaz, I, gleaning with Ruth,

      Are honored by serving, yet servants of all.

      No drudge in his corner but speeds the world's wheels;

      No serf in the field but is sowing God's seed—

      More noble, I think, in the dust though he kneels,

      Than the pauper of wealth, who makes scorn of the deed.

      Is toil but a treadmill? Think not of the grind,

      But think of the grist, what is done and to do,

      The world growing better, more like to God's mind,

      By long, faithful labor of helpers like you.

      The broom or the spade or the shuttle, that plies

      Its own honest task in its own honest way,

      Serves heaven not less than a star in the skies—

      What more could the Pleiades do than obey?

      —James Buckham.

      ———

      SUMMER AND WINTER

      If no kindly thought or word

      We can give, some soul to bless,

      If our hands, from hour to hour,

      Do no deeds of gentleness;

      If to lone and weary ones

      We no comfort will impart—

      Tho' 'tis summer in the sky,

      Yet 'tis winter in the heart!

      If we strive to lift the gloom

      From a dark and burdened life;

      If we seek to lull the storm

      Of our fallen brother's strife;

      If we bid all hate and scorn

      From the spirit to depart—

      Tho' 'tis winter in the sky,

      Yet 'tis summer in the heart!

      

      ———

THE ELEVENTH-HOUR LABORER