The People’s Holidays.
Marianne Farningham.
Not alone for the rich and great
Are the beautiful works of God;
The mountain’s slopes and the ocean’s beach
By the people’s feet are trod,
And the poor man’s children sing and dance
On the green flower-covered sod.
Not alone for the cultured eyes
Do the sweet flowers spring and grow;
There is scarcely living a man so poor
But he may their sweetness know;
And out of the town to the fresh fair fields
The toilers all can go.
Away from the factory shop and desk,
Where the diligent work in throngs,
They go sometimes to the well-earned rest
That to faithful zeal belongs;
And the shore and the forest welcome them,
And the larks pour down their songs.
“Man does not live by bread alone,”
And well it needs must be
That we all should look on our Father’s works
By the river and lake and sea,
And spend our souls in adoring praise,
For He careth for you and me.
And well may all with a stronger hand,
And a braver, truer heart,
Go back to the task that God has given,
And faithfully do our part;
And bear in our souls the peace of the fields,
To the counter, the desk, and the mart.