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Just to let thy Father do
What he will;
Just to know that he is true
And be still.
Just to follow hour by hour
As He leadeth;
Just to draw the moment’s power
As it needeth.
Just to trust Him, this is all!
Then the day will surely be
Peaceful, whatsoe’er befall,
Bright and blessed, calm and free.

Just to let Him speak to thee
Through his word,
Watching that his voice may be
Clearly heard.
Just to tell Him every thing
As it rises,
And at once to him to bring
All surprises.
Just to listen, and to stay
Where you cannot miss His voice,
This is all! and thus to-day,
Communing, you shall rejoice.

Just to ask Him what to do
All the day,
And to make you quick and true
To obey.
Just to know the needed grace
He bestoweth,
Every bar of time and place
Just to take thy orders straight
From the Master’s own command.
Blessed day! when thus we wait
Always at our Sovereign’s hand.

Just to recollect his love,
Always true;
Always shining from above,
Always new.
Just to recognize its light,
Just to claim its present might,
Just to know it as thine own,
That no power can take away;
Is not this enough alone
For the gladness of the day?

Just to trust, and yet to ask
Guidance still;
Take the training or the task
As He will.
Just to take the joy or pain
As He lends it;
Just to take the loss or gain
As he sends it
He who formed thee for his praise
Will not miss the gracious aim;
So to-day, and all thy days,
Shall be molded for the same.

Just to leave in His dear hand
Little things;
All we cannot understand,
All that stings.
Just to let Him take the care
Sorely pressing,
Finding all we let him bear
Changed to blessing.
This is all! and yet the way
Marked by Him who loves thee best;
Secret of a happy day,
Secret of his promised rest.

Frances Ridley Havergal.


God means us to be happy;
He fills the short-lived years
With loving, tender mercies
With smiles as well as tears.
Flowers blossom by the pathway,
Or, withering, they shed
Their sweetest fragrance over
The bosoms of our dead.

God filled the earth with beauty;
He touched the hills with light;
He crowned the waving forest
With living verdure bright;
He taught the bird its carol,
He gave the wind its voice,
And to the smallest insect
Its moment to rejoice.

What life hath not its blessing?
Who hath not songs to sing,
Or grateful words to utter,
Or wealth of love to bring?
Tried in affliction’s furnace
The gold becomes more pure
So strong doth sorrow make us,
So patient to endure.

No way is dark and dreary
If God be with us there;
No danger can befall us
When sheltered by his care.
Why should our eyes be blinded
To all earth’s glorious bloom?
Why sit we in the shadow
That falls upon the tomb?

Look up and catch the sunbeams!
See how the day doth dawn!
Gather the scented roses
That grow beside the thorn!
God’s pitying love doth seek us;
He leads us to his rest;
And from a thousand pathways
He chooses what is best.


How blest is he, though ever crossed,
That can all crosses blessings make;
That finds himself ere he be lost,
And lose that found for virtue’s sake.

Yea, blest is he, in life and death,
That fears not death nor loves this life;
That sets his will his wit beneath;
And hath continual peace in strife.

That naught observes but what preserves
His mind and body from offense;
That neither courts nor seasons serves,
And learns without experience.

That loves his body for his soul,
Soul for his mind, his mind for God,
God for himself, and doth control
Content, if it with him be odd.

That rests in action, acting naught
But what is good in deed and show;
That seeks but God within his thought,
And thinks but God to love and know.

That lives too low for envy’s looks,
And yet too high for loathed contempt;
That makes his friends good men and books
And naught without them doth attempt.

That ever lives a light to all,
Though oft obscured like the sun;
And, though his fortunes be but small,
Yet Fortune doth not seek nor shun.

That never looks but grace to find,
Nor seeks for knowledge to be known;
That makes a kingdom of his mind,
Wherein, with God, he reigns alone.

This man is great with little state,
Lord of the world epitomized,
Who with staid front outfaceth Fate
And, being empty, is sufficed
Or is sufficed with little, since (at least)
He makes his conscience a continual feast.

John Davies, of Hereford.


My God, I thank thee who hast made
The earth so bright;
So full of splendor and of joy,
Beauty and light;
So many glorious things are here,
Noble and right.

I thank thee, too, that thou hast made
Joy to abound;
So many gentle thoughts and deeds
Circling us round;
That in the darkest spot of earth
Some love is found.

I thank thee more that all our joy
Is touched with pain;
That shadows fall on brightest hours;
That thorns remain;
So that earth’s bliss may be our guide
And not our chain.

I thank thee, Lord, that thou hast kept
The best in store;
We have enough, yet not too much,
To long for more;
A yearning for a deeper peace
Not known before.

I thank thee, Lord, that here our souls
Though amply blest,
Can never find, although they seek,
A perfect rest;
Nor ever shall until they lean
On Jesus’ breast.

Adelaide Anne Procter.


There was once a man who smiled
Because the day was bright,
Because he slept at night,
Because God gave him sight
To gaze upon his child;
Because his little one,
Could leap and laugh and run;
Because the distant sun
Smiled on the earth he smiled.

He smiled because the sky
Was high above his head,
Because the rose was red,
Because the past was dead!
He never wondered why
The Lord had blundered so
That all things have to go
The wrong way, here below
The overarching sky.

He toiled, and still was glad
Because the air was free,
Because he loved, and she
That claimed his love and he
Shared all the joys they had!
Because the grasses grew,
Because the sweet winds blew,
Because that he could hew
And hammer, he was glad.

Because he lived he smiled,
And did not look ahead
With bitterness or dread,
But nightly sought his bed
As calmly as a child.
And people called him mad
For being always glad
With such things as he had,
And shook their heads and smiled.

Samuel Ellsworth Kiser.

The soul contains a window where
It may receive the sun and air,
But some with self the window cloy,
And shut out all the light and joy.

Nixon Waterman.


O Thou, whose bounty fills my cup
With every blessing meet!
I give thee thanks for every drop
The bitter and the sweet.

I praise Thee for the desert road,
And for the riverside;
For all thy goodness hath bestowed,
And all thy grace denied.

I thank Thee for both smile and frown,
And for the gain and loss;
I praise thee for the future crown
And for the present cross.

I thank Thee for the wing of love
Which stirred my worldly nest;
And for the stormy clouds which drove
Me, trembling, to thy breast.

I bless Thee for the glad increase,
And for the waning joy;
And for this strange, this settled peace,
Which nothing can destroy.

Jane Crewdson.


Lord, for the erring thought
Not into evil wrought,
Lord, for the wicked will,
Betrayed and baffled still,
For the heart from itself kept,
Our thanksgiving accept.

For the ignorant hopes that were
Broken to our blind prayer;
For pain, death, sorrow, sent
Unto our chastisement;
For all loss of seeming good,
Quicken our gratitude.

William Dean Howells.


Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly-dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Alfred Tennyson.


Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own
The wiser love severely kind;
Since, richer for its chastening grown,
I see, whereas I once was blind.
The world, O Father, hath not wronged
With loss the life by thee prolonged;
But still, with every added year,
More beautiful thy works appear.

As thou hast made thy world without,
Make thou more fair my world within;
Shine through its lingering clouds of doubt;
Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin;
Fill, brief or long, my granted span
Of life with love to thee and man;
Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest.
But let my last days be my best.

John Greenleaf Whittier.

Then let us smile when skies are gray,
And laugh at stormy weather!
And sing life’s lonesome times away;
So worry and the dreariest day
Will find an end together!

Paul and Silas in their prison
Sang of Christ the Lord arisen;
And an earthquake’s arm of might
Broke their dungeon gates at night.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.


In a world where sorrow ever will be known,
Where are found the needy, and the sad and lone;
How much joy and comfort we can all bestow
If we scatter sunshine everywhere we go.

Slightest actions often meet the sorest needs,
For the world wants daily little kindly deeds;
Oh, what care and sorrow we may help remove,
With our songs and courage, sympathy and love.

When the days are gloomy, sing some happy song,
Meet the world’s repining with a courage strong;
Go, with faith undaunted, through the ills of life,
Scatter smiles and sunshine o’er its toil and strife.

Lanta Wilson Smith.


I met a child, and kissed it; who shall say
I stole a joy in which I had no part?
The happy creature from that very day
Hath felt the more his little human heart.
Now when I pass he runs away and smiles,
And tries to seem afraid with pretty wiles.
I am a happier and a richer man,
Since I have sown this new joy in the earth;
’Tis no small thing for us to reap stray mirth
In every sunny wayside where we can.
It is a joy to me to be a joy
Which may in the most lowly heart take root;
And it is gladness to that little boy
To look out for me at the mountain foot.

Frederick William Faber.

Sow thou sorrow and thou shalt reap it;
Sow thou joy and thou shalt keep it.

Richard Watson Gilder.


(Written in May, 1863, when cotton came to Lancashire, enabling the mills to open after being long closed. The suffering, grateful women sang the Doxology.)

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
Praise Him who sendeth joy and woe.
The Lord who takes the Lord who gives
O praise him, all that dies, and lives.

He opens and he shuts his hand,
But why, we cannot understand.
Pours and dries up his mercies’ flood,
And yet is still All-perfect Good.

We fathom not the mighty plan,
The mystery of God and man;
We women, when afflictions come,
We only suffer and are dumb.

And when, the tempest passing by,
He gleams out, sun-like, through our sky,
We look up and, through black clouds riven,
We recognize the smile of Heaven.

Ours is no wisdom of the wise.
We have no deep philosophies;
Childlike we take both kiss and rod,
For he who loveth knoweth God.

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.


Through night to light! And though to mortal eyes
Creation’s face a pall of horror wear,
Good cheer! good cheer! the gloom of midnight flies;
Then shall a sunrise follow, mild and fair.

Through storm to calm! And though his thunder car
The rumbling tempest drive through earth and sky,
Good cheer! good cheer! The elemental war
Tells that the blessed healing hour is nigh.

Through frost to spring! And though the biting blast
Of Eurus stiffen nature’s juicy veins,
Good cheer! good cheer! When winter’s wrath is past,
Soft-murmuring spring breathes sweetly o’er the plains.

Through strife to peace! And though with bristling front
A thousand frightful deaths encompass thee,
Good cheer! good cheer! brave thou the battle’s brunt,
For the peace-march and song of victory.

Through toil to sleep! And though the sultry noon
With heavy drooping wing oppress thee now,
Good cheer! good cheer! the cool of evening soon
Shall lull to sweet repose thy weary brow.

Through cross to crown! And though thy spirit’s life
Trials untold assail with giant strength,
Good cheer! good cheer! soon ends the bitter strife,
And thou shalt reign in peace with Christ at length.

Through woe to joy! And though at morn thou weep,
And though the midnight find thee weeping still,
Good cheer! good cheer! the Shepherd loves his sheep;
Resign thee to the watchful Father’s will.

Rosegarten, tr. by Charles Timothy Brooks.

Talk Happiness. The world is sad enough
Without your woes. No path is wholly rough;
Look for the places that are smooth and clear,
And speak of those to rest the weary ear
Of earth, so hurt by one continuous strain
Of human discontent and grief and pain.


Serve God and be cheerful. Make brighter
The brightness that falls to thy lot;
The rare, or the daily sent, blessing
Profane not with gloom or with doubt.

Serve God and be cheerful. Each sorrow
Is with thy will in God’s for the best.
O’er the cloud hangs the rainbow. To-morrow
Will see the blue sky in the west.

Serve God and be cheerful. Look upward!
God’s countenance scatters the gloom;
And the soft summer light of his heaven
Shines over the cross and the tomb.

Serve God and be cheerful. The wrinkles
Of age we may take with a smile;
But the wrinkles of faithless foreboding
Are the crow’s-feet of Beelzebub’s guile.

Serve God and be cheerful. The winter
Rolls round to the beautiful spring.
And o’er the green grave of the snowdrift
The nest-building robins will sing.

Serve God and be cheerful. Live nobly,
Do right, and do good. Make the best
Of the gifts and the work put before you,
And to God without fear leave the rest.

William Newell.


Be trustful, be steadfast, whatever betide thee,
Only one thing do thou ask of the Lord
Grace to go forward wherever he guide thee,
Simply believing the truth of his word.

Earthliness, coldness, unthankful behavior
Ah! thou mayst sorrow, but do not despair.
Even this grief thou mayst bring to thy Saviour,
Cast upon him this burden of care!

Bring all thy hardness His power can subdue it,
How full is the promise! The blessing how free:
“Whatsoever ye ask in my name, I will do it;
Abide in my love and be joyful in me.”


Not always the path is easy;
There are thickets hung with gloom,
There are rough and stony places
Where never the roses bloom.
But oft, when the way is hardest,
I am conscious of One at my side
Whose hands and whose feet are wounded,
And I’m happy and safe with my Guide.

Better than friends and kindred,
Better than love and rest,
Dearer than hope and triumph,
Is the name I wear on my breast.
I feel my way through the shadows
With a confident heart and brave;
I shall live in the light beyond them;
I shall conquer death and the grave.

Often when tried and tempted,
Often, ashamed of sin
That, strong as an armed invader,
Has made wreck of the peace within
That wonderful loving-kindness,
Patient and full and free,
Has stooped for my consolation;
Has brought a blessing to me.

Therefore my lips shall praise thee,
Therefore, let come what may,
To the height of a solemn gladness
My song shall arise to-day.
Not on the drooping willow
Shall I hang my harp in the land,
When the Lord himself has cheered me
By the touch of his pierced hand.

Margaret Elizabeth Sangster.

To try each day his will to know;
To tread the way his will may show;
To live for him who gave me life;
To strive for him who suffered strife
And sacrifice through death for me
Let this my joy, my portion be.


I thank thee, Lord, for mine unanswered prayers,
Unanswered save thy quiet, kindly “Nay”;
Yet it seemed hard among my heavy cares
That bitter day.

I wanted joy; but Thou didst know for me
That sorrow was the gift I needed most,
And in its mystic depths I learned to see
The Holy Ghost.

I wanted health; but thou didst bid me sound
The secret treasuries of pain,
And in the moans and groans my heart oft found
Thy Christ again.

I wanted wealth; ’twas not the better part;
There is a wealth with poverty oft given.
And thou didst teach me of the gold of heart
Best gift of heaven.

I thank thee, Lord, for these unanswered prayers,
And for thy word, the quiet, kindly “Nay.”
’Twas thy withholding lightened all my cares
That blessed day.

Oliver Huckel.


Open the shutters free and wide.
And “glorify the room”;
That no dark shadows here may bide
That there be naught of gloom.

What joy to breathe the morning air,
And see the sun again;
With living things God’s love to share,
In recompense for pain.

Henry Coyle.

For all the evils under the sun
There is some remedy or none;
If there is one be sure to find it;
If there is none, why, never mind it.


Again, O God, the night shuts down,
Again I kneel to praise!
Thy wisdom, love, and truth and power
Have long made glad my days.
And, now, with added gratitude,
An evening hymn I raise.

I take the attitude of prayer,
But not for gifts to plead;
Thy bounty, far beyond desert,
Has more than met my need;
So, well content, I worship Thee
In thought and word and deed.

Thou bidst me ask, if I’d receive,
And seek, if I would find;
But surely Thou wilt not condemn
A heart to trust inclined.
Give what is best; Thou knowest all.
How blest the quiet mind!

I praise thee that in all the hours
And moments, as they glide,
Thy providence enfoldeth close;
Thy blessings rich abide;
And Thou dost keep in perfect peace
Those who in thee confide.

I praise thee for what seemeth good,
And for what seemeth ill.
Appearances are vain deceits;
Above them stands thy will;
By faith, not sight, thy children walk,
In hottest fire hold still.

Accept the off’ring that I lay
In gladness at thy feet;
My heart o’erflows with keenest joy,
With ecstacy complete.
Because, in all vicissitudes,
Thy constancy I greet.

Thou wilt not cease to love me well,
Nor fail to hold me fast;
Though pain may come, it cannot harm;
My care on thee is cast,
For future good he’ll surely send
Who sent so sweet a past.

Praise waits in Zion, Lord, for thee,
Praise runs the world around;
And so this little heart of mine
Shall ne’er in gloom be found,
Rejoicing that all days and nights
May with thy praise resound.

James Mudge.


Bury thy sorrow,
The world has its share;
Bury it deeply,
Hide it with care.

Think of it calmly
When curtained by night;
Tell it to Jesus,
And all will be right.

Tell it to Jesus,
He knoweth thy grief;
Tell it to Jesus,
He’ll send thee relief.

Gather the sunlight
Aglow on thy way;
Gather the moonbeams,
Each soft silver ray.

Hearts grown aweary
With heavier woe,
Droop ’mid the darkness
Go comfort them, go!

Bury thy sorrow,
Let others be blest;
Give them the sunshine,
Tell Jesus the rest.


Great Jéhovah! we will praise thee,
Earth and heaven thy will obey;
Suns and systems move obedient
To thy universal sway.

Deep and awful are thy counsels;
High and glorious is thy throne;
Reigning o’er thy vast dominion,
Thou art God and thou alone.

In thy wondrous condescension
Thou hast stooped to raise our race;
Thou hast given to us a Saviour,
Full of goodness and of grace.

By his blood we are forgiven,
By his intercession free,
By his love we rise to glory
There to reign eternally.

God of Power we bow before thee;
God of Wisdom thee we praise;
God of Love so kind and tender,
We would praise thee all our days.

Praise to thee our loving Father;
Praise to thee redeeming Son;
Praise to thee Almighty Spirit;
Praise to thee Thou Holy One.

John White.


We take our share of fretting,
Of grieving and forgetting;
The paths are often rough and steep, and heedless feet may fall;
But yet the days are cheery,
And night brings rest when weary
And somehow this old planet is a good world after all.

Though sharp may be our trouble,
The joys are more than double,
The brave surpass the cowards and the leal are like a wall
To guard their dearest ever,
To fail the feeblest never;
And somehow this old earth remains a bright world after all.

There’s always love that’s caring,
And shielding and forbearing,
Dear woman’s love to hold us close and keep our hearts in thrall.
There’s home to share together
In calm or stormy weather,
And while the hearth-flame burns it is a good world after all.

The lisp of children’s voices,
The chance of happy choices,
The bugle sounds of hope and faith, through fogs and mists that call;
The heaven that stretches o’er us,
The better days before us,
They all combine to make this earth a good world after all.

Margaret Elizabeth Sangster.

Sound an anthem in your sorrows,
Build a fortress of your fears;
Throw a halo round your trials,
Weave a rainbow of your tears.

Never mind if shadows darken,
Never fear though foes be strong;
Lift your heads and shout hosannah!
Praise the Lord, it won’t be long.


God is near thee, Christian; cheer thee,
Rest in him, sad soul;
He will keep thee when around thee
Billows roll.

Calm thy sadness, look in gladness
To thy Friend on high;
Faint and weary pilgrim, cheer thee;
Help is nigh.

Mark the sea-bird wildly wheeling
Through the stormy skies;
God defends him, God attends him
When he cries.

Fare thee onward through the sunshine
Or through wintry blast;
Fear forsake thee; God will take thee
Home at last.


This one sits shivering in Fortune’s smile,
Taking his joy with bated, doubtful breath.
This one, gnawed by hunger, all the while
Laughs in the teeth of death.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich.


They stand, the regal mountains, with crowns of spotless snow,
Forever changeless, grand, sublime, while ages come and go!
Each day the morning cometh in through the eastern gate,
With trailing robes of pink and gold; yet still they watch and wait
For that more glorious morning, till that glad message sounds
“Lift up your heads, ye gates of God! the King of glory comes!”

And so they stand o’erlooking earth’s trouble, pain and sin,
And wait the call to lift their gates and let the King come in.
O calm, majestic mountains! O everlasting hills!
Beside your patient watch how small seem all life’s joys and ills!

Beyond, the restless ocean, mysterious, vast, and dim,
Whose changeful waves forever chant their grand triumphal hymn.
Now tempest-lashed and raging, with deep and hungry roar,
The foam-capped billows dash themselves in anger on the shore,

Now wavelets ripple gently along the quiet strand,
While summer’s sunshine broodeth soft o’er all the sea and land.
O mighty waves! as chainless, as free, as birds that skim!
There’s One who rules the stormy sea thy song is all of him.

And so in the shadowy forest the birds sing loud and sweet
From swaying boughs where breezes rock their little broods to sleep.
The golden cups of the cowslip spring from the mossy sod,
And the sweet blue violet blooms alone just for itself and God.

It is aye the same old lesson, from mountain, wood, and sea,
The old, old story, ever new, and wondrous grand to me
Of One who holds the waters in the hollow of his hand;
Whose presence shone from mountain top in that far eastern land.

“The groves are God’s own temples”; the wild birds sing his praise;
And every flower in the forest dim its humble tribute pays;
For God loves all his creatures, however weak and small;
His grandest works give praise to him, for he is Lord of all.

We cannot make bargains for blisses,
Nor catch them like fishes in nets;
And sometimes the thing our life misses
Helps more than the thing which it gets.
For good lieth not in pursuing,
Nor gaining of great nor of small,
But just in the doing, and doing
As we would be done by is all.

Alice Cary.


There’s many a trouble
Would break like a bubble,
And into the waters of Lethe depart,
Did we not rehearse it,
And tenderly nurse it,
And give it a permanent place in the heart.

There’s many a sorrow
Would vanish to-morrow
Were we but willing to furnish the wings;
So sadly intruding,
And quietly brooding,
It hatches out all sorts of horrible things.

How welcome the seeming
Of looks that are beaming
Whether one’s wealthy or whether one’s poor;
Eyes bright as a berry,
Cheeks red as a cherry,
The groan and the curse and the heartache can cure.

Resolve to be merry,
All worry to ferry
Across the famed waters which bid us forget,
And no longer fearful,
But happy and cheerful,
We feel life has much that’s worth living for yet.


Away! my unbelieving fear!
Fear shall in me no more have place;
My Saviour doth not yet appear,
He hides the brightness of his face,
But shall I therefore let him go,
And basely to the tempter yield?
No, in the strength of Jesus, no;
I never will give up my shield.

Although the vine its fruit deny,
Although the olive yield no oil,
The withering fig-trees droop and die,
The fields elude the tiller’s toil.
The empty stall no herd afford,
And perish all the bleating race,
Yet will I triumph in the Lord
The God of my salvation praise.

Charles Wesley.

’Tis impious in a good man to be sad.

Edward Young.


As a bird in meadows fair
Or in lovely forest sings,
Till it fills the summer air
And the green wood sweetly rings,
So my heart to thee would raise,
O my God, its song of praise
That the gloom of night is o’er
And I see the sun once more.

If thou, Sun of love, arise,
All my heart with joy is stirred,
And to greet thee upward flies,
Gladsome as yon tiny bird.
Shine thou in me, clear and bright,
Till I learn to praise thee right;
Guide me in the narrow way,
Let me ne’er in darkness stray.

Bless to-day whate’er I do;
Bless whate’er I have and love;
From the paths of virtue true
Let me never, never rove;
By thy spirit strengthen me
In the faith that leads to Thee,
Then, an heir of life on high,
Fearless I may live and die.


Pleased in the sunshine, pleased in the blast,
Pleased when the heavens are all overcast,
Pleased when I can or cannot see
God’s loving hand is dealing with me.

Pleased, for Christ’s promises never can fail;
Pleased in the calm and also the gale;
Knowing Omniscience at midnight can see,
Since he was Pilot on dark Galilee.

Pleased when in health or when I am ill,
Pleased, since I know I’m in the Lord’s will,
Pleased with whatever my lot may be
Knowing Omnipotence careth for me.

Beneath the tiger’s jaw I heard a victim cry,
“Thanks, God, that, though in pain, yet not in guilt I die.”

From the Persian.


I’ll sing you a lay ere I wing on my way,
Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up!
Whenever you’re blue find something to do
For somebody else who is sadder than you.
Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up!

He growled at morning, noon, and night,
And trouble sought to borrow;
Although to-day the sky were bright
He knew ’twould storm to-morrow;
A thought of joy he could not stand,
And struggled to resist it;
Though sunshine dappled all the land
This sorry pessi_mist_ it.

Nixon Waterman.

Oh, be in God’s clear world no dark and troubled sprite!
To Christ, thy Master mild, do no such foul despite;
But show in look, word, mien, that thou belongst to him,
Who says, “My yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

Friedrich Rueckert.

Let us gather up the sunbeams
Lying all around our path;
Let us keep the wheat and roses,
Casting out the thorns and chaff;
Let us find our sweetest comfort
In the blessings of to-day,
With a patient hand removing
All the briars from our way.

O give me the joy of living
And some glorious work to do!
A spirit of thanksgiving,
With loyal heart and true;
Some pathway to make brighter,
Where tired feet now stray;
Some burden to make lighter,
While ’tis day.

True happiness (if understood)
Consists alone in doing good.

Talk happiness each chance you get and talk it good and strong!
Look for it in the byways as you grimly pass along;
Perhaps it is a stranger now whose visit never comes,
But talk it! Soon you’ll find that you and happiness are chums.

’Tis Being and Doing and Having that make
All the pleasures and pains of which mortals partake.
To Be what God pleases, to Do a man’s best,
And to Have a good heart, is the way to be blest.

If the weather is cold don’t scold,
If the weather is wet don’t fret,
If the weather is warm don’t storm,
If the weather is dry don’t cry;
But be cheerful together, whatever the weather.

The inner side of every cloud
Is bright and shining;
Therefore I turn my clouds about,
And always wear them inside out,
To show the lining.

Ellen Thornycroft Fowler Felkin.

Let him that loves his ease, his ease,
Keep close and house him fair;
He’ll still be a stranger to the merry thrill of danger
And the joy of the open air.

Richard Hovey.

There is no human being
With so wholly dark a lot,
But the heart, by turning the picture,
May find some sunny spot.

Let us cry, All good things
Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more now
Than flesh helps soul.

Robert Browning.