Though we repent, can any God give back
The dear, lost days we might have made so fair -
Turn false to true, and careless to care,
And let us find again what now we lack?
Oh, once, once more to tread the old-time track,
The flowers we threw away once more to wear -
Though we repent, can any God give back
The dear, lost days we might have made so fair?
Who can repulse a stealthy ghost's attack -
Silence a voice that doth the midnight dare -
Make fresh hope spring from gravesod of despair,
Set free a tortured soul from memory's rack?
Though we repent, can any God give back
The dear lost days we might have made so fair?
Lous. Chandler Moulton.

Even in the merest worldly sense,
There is no wiser maxim than this -
"Look to the end."
Percy Fitzgerald.

A life of study is not far removed from a life of piety.
Spaulding.

"The chains of habit are generally too small
to be felt until they are too strong to be broken."

Chapter 37

When it comes to a question of trusting
Yourself to the risks of the road;
When the thing is the sharing of burdens,
The lifting the heft of a load;
In the hour of peril or trial,
In the hour you meet as you can,
You may safely depend on the wisdom
And skill of the average man.

"Tis the average man and no other
Who does his plain duty each day,
The small thing his wage is for doing,
On the commonplace bit of the way.
"Tis the average man, may God bless him,
Who pilots us, still in the van,
Over land, over sea, as we travel,
Just the plain, hardy, average man.

So on through the days of existence,
All mingling is shadow and shine,
We may count on the every day hero,
Whom happily God may divine;
But who wears the swarthy grime of his calling,
And stands at the last with the noblest,
That commonplace, average man.
Harper's Weekly

The men of earth build houses - halls and chambers, roofs and domes -
But the women of the earth - God knows - the women build the homes.
Eve could not stray from Paradise, for, oh, no matter where
Her gracious presence lit the way, lo! Paradise was there.
Nixon Waterman.

Chapter 38

It isn't the thing you do, dear;
It's the thing you've left undone
Which gives you a bit of a heartache
At the setting of the sun!

The stone you might have lifted
Out of a brothers way;
The bit of heartsome counsel
You ere hurried too much to say
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle and winsome tone
That you had no tome or thought for,
With troubles enough of your own.

For life is all too short, dear,
And sorrow is all too great
To suffer our slow compassion
That tarries until too late;
And it's the thing you do, dear,
It's the thing you leave undone
Which gives you a bit of a heartache
At the setting of the sun.

"Life is mostly froth and bubble,
Two things stand like stone;
Kindness in another's troubles,
Courage in your own."

Chapter 39

Are the clouds hanging heavy and low, dear,
Is it hard for the sun to shine through?
Do the burdens of life seem too great, dear,
And the sorrow meant only for you?

Then, put on a smile sweet and true, dear
And lift up your heart in prayer,
And the burdens will vanish like mist, dear,
And the sorrows seem easy to bear.
R. L. W.

Sunset and evening star, and one clear call of me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar when I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep, too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark,
And may there be no sadness of farewell, when I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place the flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my pilot face to face, when I have crossed the bar.
Tennyson.

"In order to make the best of others, we must first make the best of ourselves."
"He who lives with wolves will soon learn to howl."

Chapter 40

When I compare
What I have lost with what I gained,
What I have missed with what I have attained,
Little room do I find for pride.

I am aware
How many days have been ill-spent,
How like an arrow the good intent
Has fallen short or been turned aside. But who shall dare
To measure loss and gain in this wise?
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
Longfellow.

Like one blindfolded, groping out his way,
I will not try to touch beyond to day. Since all the future is concealed from sight,
I need but strive to make the next step right,
I leave to, God, tomorrow's where and how
And do concern myself but with the now.
That little word, though half the future's length,
Well used holds twice its meaning and its strength.

That done, the next! and so on, till I find
Perchance some day I am no longer blind.
And looking up behold a radiant Friend
Who says: "Rest now, for you have reached the End."
Wilcox.

Chapter 41

What wonderful things we have planned,
What beautiful things we have done,
What fields we have filled,
what gifts we have willed
In the light of another year's sun;
When we think of it all we are baffled,
There's so much that never comes true;
Because, Love, instead of our doing.
We're always just meaning to do.

We dream of a fountain of knowledge;
We loiter along its brink;
And toy with its crystalline waters,
Forever just meaning to drink
Night falls, and our tasks are unfinished,
Too late our last chance we rue.
Dear Love, while our comrades were doing
We only were meaning to do.
Margaret E. Sangster.

Hot weather? Yes; but really not
Compared with weather twice as hot,
Find comfort, then, in arguing thus,
And you'll pull through victorious;
For instance, while you gasp and pant
And try to cool yourself - and can't -
With soda, cream and lemonade,
The heat at ninety in the shade -

Just calmly sit and ponder o'er
These same degrees, with ninety more
On top of them, and so concede
The weather now is cool, indeed!
James Whitcomb Riley.

Chapter 42

Just this day in all I do
To be true!
little loaf takes little leaven -
Duty for this day, not seven,
That is all of earth and heaven,
If we knew!

Ah! how needlessly we gaze
Down the days;
Troubled for next week, next year,
Overlooking the now and here!
"Heart, the only sure is near,"
Wisdom says.

Step by step and day by day,
All the way!
So the pilgrim soul winds through,
Finds each morn the strength to do
All God asks of me or you-
This, obey.
James Buckman.

"Not famous forever
In story and song -
Just humbled and thankful
The bright way along.

No voice to acclaim us
Where proud hearts may beat-
Just doing our duty,
And finding it sweet,"

Chapter 43

What are you here for, you and I,
As the long wonderful days go by;
Each one stretching to us a hand
Filled with privileges high and grand?
Born of a meaning our lives must be,
God has his purpose in you and me.

We are here to sing of hope and cheer
When the skies are dark and days seem drear
We are here to be faithful and strong and true
To the work that lies to our hands to do;
To make for all that is noble and good,
And be loyal to the bonds of our brotherhood.

We are here, you and I, to pass along
Blossoms of kindness and gladness and song;
To give of our joy like a sacred cup
That the hearts round us may be brimmed up;
And to hold to the struggling where'er we stand,
The comfort and strength of a helping hand.

This is what we are here for, you and I
As the long and wonderful days go by'
Welcome them gladly, for each one brings,
The duty and beauty of common things,
And, as they unfold shall unfolded be
God's own purpose in you and me.
L. M. Montgomery.

While man is growing, life is in decrease;
And cradles rock us near to the tomb.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun.
Dr. E. Young.

Chapter 44

There are two kinds of people on earth today -
Just two kinds of people, no more, I say.
Not the sinner and saint, for 'tis well understood
The good are half bad, and the bad are half good.

Not the rich and the poor, for to count a man's wealth
You must first know the state of his conscience and heath
Not the humble and proud, for in life's little span
Who put on vain airs is not counted a man.

Not the happy and sad, for the swift-flying years
Bring each man his laughter, and each man his tears
No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean
Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.

Wherever you go, you will find the world's masses,
Are always divided in just two classes.
And oddly enough, you will find, too I ween,
There is only one lifter to twenty who lean.

In which class are you? Are you easing the load
Of overtaxed lifters who toil down the road?
Or are you a leaner, who lets others bear
Your portion of labor, and worry and care?
Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

As aromatic plants bestow
No spicy fragrance while they grow;
But, crushed or trodden to the ground,
Diffuse their balmy sweets around.
Goldsmith.

Chapter 45

Hast thou drunk deep of Marah's bitter fountain?
Has thy bright gold changed into useless dross?
Remember! One before thee climbed a mountain,
And gained upon its summit - but a cross."

Many a shaft at random sent,
Finds mark the archer little meant.
Many a word at random spoken
May sooth, or wound a heart that's broken.
Scott.

Let Fate do her worst; there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy;
And which come in the night time of sorrow and care
To bring back the features that joy used to wear;
Long, long be my heart with such memories filled;
Like the vise in which roses have once been distilled,
You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will
But the scent of roses will hang round it still.
Thomas Moore.

Habits are soon assumed, but when we strive to strip them off, 'tis being flayed alive.
Cowper.

Chapter 46

Art thou beloved by one true heart?
Oh, prize it! It is rare;
There are so many in the mart -
So many false and fair.

Art thou alone? Oh, say not so!
The world is full, be sure;
There is so much of sant and woe,
So much that thou canst cure.

Art thou in poverty thyself?
Thou canst still help a friend,
Kind words are more than any pelf,
Good deeds need never end.

Art thou content in youth or age?
Then let who will be great,
Thou hast the noblest heritage,
Thou hast the noblest estate.
F. E. Weatherby.

Chapter 47

There never was a day so long
It did not have an end.
There never was a man so poor
He did not have a friend.
When the long day is at end
Brings a time of rest.
And he has one steadfast friend
Can count himself as blessed.

There never was a cloud that
The sunshine all from sight.
There never was a life so sad
It had not some delight.
Perchance for us the sun at last
May break the dark clouds through
, And glory gild the sunset skies
Till heaven seems just in view.

So let's not be discouraged, friend,
When shadows cross our way.
Of hope and trust I've some to lend,
So borrow from me pray.
Good friends are we; therefore, no poor,
Though worldly wealth we lack.
Behold, the sun breaks forth at last
And drives the dark clouds back.

Would'st thou be wretched? "Tis an easy way;
Think but of thyself, and self alone all day;
Think of thy pain, thy grief, thy loss, thy care -
Think only of thyself - 'twill not be vain.
Would'st thou be happy? Take an easy way;
Think of those around thee - live for them all day
Think of their pain, their grief, their loss, their care -
All that they have to do, or feel, or bear;
Think of their pleasures, of their good, their gain;
Think of those 'round thee - 'twill not be vain

Chapter 48

So you've lost your race, lad?
Ran it clean and fast?
Beaten at the tape, lad?
Rough? Yes, but 'tis past.
Never mind the losing -
Think of how you ran,
Smile and shut your teeth, lad -
Take it like a man.

Not the winning counts, lad
But the winning fair;
Not the losing shames, lad,
But the weak despair;
So, when failure stuns you,
Don't forget your plan -
Smile, and shut your teeth, lad
Take it like a man.

Diamonds turned to paste, lad?
Night instead of morn?
Where you'd pluck a rose, lad,
Oft you'd pluck a thorn?
Time will heal the bleeding -
Life is but a span;
Smile, and shut your teeth, lad,
Take it like a man.

Then, when sunset comes, lad,
When your fighting's through,
And the Silent Guest, lad,
Fills his cup for you,
Shrink not - clasp it coolly -
End as you began;
Smile and close your eyes, lad,
And take it like a man.
C. F. Lester.

Chapter 49

Something each day - - a smile,
It is not much to give,
And the little gifts of life,
Make sweet the days we live
The world has weary hearts
That we can bless and cheer, And a smile for every day
Makes sunshine all the year.

Something each day -- a word,
We cannot know it's power,
It grows in fruitfulness
As grows the gentle flower.
What comfort it may bring
Where all is dark and drear
For a kind word each day
Makes pleasant all the year.

Something each day -- a thought,
Unselfish good and true,
That aids another's needs.
While we out way purse;
That seeks to lighten hearts,
That leads to path ways clear;
For a helpful thought each day
Makes happy all the year.

Something each day -- a deed,
Of kindness and of good,
To link in closer bonds
All human brotherhood.
Oh, thus the heavenly will
We all may do while here;
For a good deed every day
Makes blessed all the year.
George Cooper.

Chapter 50

"He who lives with wolves will soon learn to
howl," says the old Spanish proverb; and as a
contemporary applies it, "He who lives with the
faults of this friends, and counts them over, and
sorts them, and weights them, and measures them,
will soon have equally grave ones of his own.
There is nothing that so deteriorates character
as this undue looking after faults and blemishes
in others while we are blind to our own.

There is only one way, after all, to reform
the world; and that is, first beginning the
work of reformation with ourself. We come back,
inevitably, to the old truth, so often stated.
"In order to make the best of others, we must first
make the best of ourselves'."

Chapter 51

When, sometimes our feet grow weary,
On the rugged hills of life -
The path stretching long and dreary
With trial and labor rife -
We pause on the toilsome journey,
Glancing backward in valley and glen,
And sign with an infinite longing
To return and begin again.
For behind is the dew of the morning,
In all its freshness and light.

And before are doubts and shadows,
And the chill and gloom of the night.
We remember the sunny places
We passed so carelessly then,
And ask, with a passionate longing,
To return and begin again.

And, vain, indeed, is the asking.
Life's duties press all of us on,
And who dare shrink from the labor,
Or sigh for the sunshine that's gone?
And, it may be, not far on before us
Wait fairer places than then -
Life's paths may yet lead by still waters,
Though we may not begin again.

Forever more upward and onward
Be our paths on the hills of life,
And soon will a radiant dawning
Transfigure the toil and the strife,
And our Father's hand will lead us
Tenderly upward then;
In the joy and peace of a fairer world
He will let us begin again.

Chapter 52

"Tis easy enough to be pleasant
When life flow along like a song;
But the man worth while is the one Who will smile When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
And it always comes with the years,
And the life that is worth the honor of earth
Is the smile that comes through tears.

It is each enough to be prudent
When nothing tempts you to stray;
When without or within no voice of sin
Is luring your soul away.
But it's only a negative virtue
Until it is tried by fire,
And the life that is worth the honor of earth
Is the one that resists desire.

By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
Who had no strength for the strife,
The world's highway is cumbered today,
They make up the item of life.
But the virtue that conquers passion,
And the sorrow that hides in a smile -
It is these that are worth the homage of earth,
For we find them but once in a while.

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tube Twisted and dried,
When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and faith we shall need it -- lie down for an aeon or two,
Till the Master of all Good Workmen shall put us to work anew'

Those that were good shall be happy; they shall sit in a golden chair;
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair;
They shall find real saints to draw form - Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;
They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all '

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame;
And no one shall for money and no one shall work for fame;
But each for the joy of working, and each in his separate star,
Shall draw things as he sees it for the God of Things as They are.

Rudyard Kipling.

Chapter 55

If you strike a thorn or rose, Keep a-goin'
If it hail or if it snows, Keep a-goin';
'Taint no use to sit and whine,
When the fish ain't on your line;
Bait your hook and keep on tryin' Keep a-goin'.

When the weather kills your crop, Keep a goin'
When you tumble from the top Keep a-goin';
S'pose you'er out of every dime?
Gettin' broke ain't any crime;
Tell the world you're feeling prime Keep a-goin'.

When it looks like all is up, Keep a-goin'.
Drain the sweetness from the cup, Keep a-goin'
See the wild birds on the wing.
Hear the bells that sweetly ring;
When you feel like singing, sing Keep a-goin'.

Atlanta Constitution.

Chapter 56

When you see a man in woe
Walk right up and say "hullo".
Say "hullo", an' how d'ye do".
"How's the world a usin' you?'
Slap the fellow on this back
Bring your hand down with a whack;
Grin an' shake an' say "hullo'.

Is he clothed in rags. Oh, sho
Walk right up as' say "hullo"
Rages are but a cotton roll,
Just for wrapping up a soul,
An' a soul id worth a true
Hale and hearty "how d'ye do".
Don't wait for a crowd to go,
Walk right up an' say "hullo".

W'en big vessels meet, they say,
They salute an' sail away,
Just the same as you an' me,
Lonesome ships upon the sea;
Each one sailing his own jog
For a port beyond the fog.
Let your speaking trumpet blow;
Life your horn an' cry "hullo."

Say "hullo", an' how d'ye do."
Other folks are good as you.
W'en you leave your house of clay,
Wanderin' in the Far-away,
W'en you travel through the strange
Country t' other side the range
Then the souls you've cheered will know
Who you be an' say "hullo".

Chapter 57

Did you hear the loving word - Pass it on; Like the singing of a bird? Pass it on; Let it cheer another's woe You have reaped what others sow, Pass it on. "twas the sunshine of a smile - Pass it on; Staying but a little while; Pass it on; April beam, the little thing, Still it wakes the flowers of spring, Makes the silent birds to sing- Passing on. Have you found the heavenly light?
Pass it on;
Souls are groping in the night,
Daylight gone
Hold thy lighted lamp on high,
Be a star in some one's sky
he may live who else would lie
Pass it on.

Be not selfish in thy greed,
Pass it on;
Look upon thy brother's need,
Pass it on;
Live for self you live in vain,
Live for Christ you live again,
Live for Him you reign-
Pass it on.

Chapter 58