TO A FRIEND ON HER BIRTH-DAY.
Thy years are pearls strung on Life’s chain.
Not counted they by days, nor years.
But numbered by the good thou’st done;
And friend thou needest have no fears
That pearls have ever tarnished been;
Thou’st kept them bright by good thou’st done.
For thou hast many burdens borne,
And thou hast many vict’ries won
In Life’s hard battles for the right.
Thou oft hast had temptations strong,
But thou hast ever conquered them,
And thou hast overcome all wrong.
Congratulations I give thee,
On this, thy happy natal day,
And this shall be my earnest prayer,
That pearls of love be thine alway.
HAVE IDEALS.
My ideals are the highest,
Though my feet rest on the sod.
I aspire e’en to high heaven,
Even to the “throne of God.”
And I think it is much better
That we soar above the stars,
Than to grovel in the low-lands,
Or behind a prison’s bars.
Though ourselves have built the prison
That confines our souls therein;
We must ever live in darkness
Till we break the bars within,
And escape into God’s sunshine,
To the sunshine of the soul;
And live up to our ideals,
And take heaven as our goal.
SELFISHNESS.
We really do not understand
That which within us lies.
We think that we have conquered self,
And then there will arise
Some serious point within our hearts;
Some question there will be—
Some preconceived idea of self;
It vital seems to be.
We must begin all o’er again.
For self must conquered be.
We must accept the “Golden Rule”,
From selfishness be free.
Deep in the gardens of our hearts
We’ve sowed broadcast the seeds
Of selfishness; they’ve taken root,
Producing noxious weeds.
In time, by watchfulness and care
We may exterminate
Each selfish thought within our hearts,
And love accumulate.
We e’en are selfish in our love,
And selfish in our hate;
For Self doth rule with selfish hand,
E’er sits within our gate.
The ego is e’er uppermost;
We ever look within.
Self magnifies what good there is,
But overlooks the sin.
She sits upon the highest throne,
And on the lowest stool.
Self governs every act in life;
For self doth ever rule.
And Self is “mightier than the sword.”
If given once control
She conquers all there is of us
In mind, in heart, in soul.
Then let us bury selfishness
In grave with selfish deeds.
Erect a monument to Love
From stones cut from good deeds.
LIFE IS NOTHING WITHOUT LOVE.
Though of down may be your pillow,
And most sumptuous be your bed,
All your dreams will be unhappy,
Unless Love sits at your head.
Though your table may be loaded,
With rich viands e’er be spread;
All will be most flat and tasteless,
Unless Love shall break the bread.
Though you travel o’er creation,
Have all things that you demand;
Nothing meets your expectation,
Unless Love does by you stand.
Though you dwell in gorgeous palace,
Even though you may be king.
All is vanity, and joyless,
If sweet Love is on the wing.
THE CENTURY FLOWER.
What wakened thee from thy long sleep?
Who told thee when to bloom?
A century seems a long, long time
For thee to lie in gloom.
How didst thou know when to arise?
And thy new garment don;
Thou mightst have slept thy life away
Whilst time was going on.
Was there a power within thy soul?
A wish within thy heart?
To soar above all other flowers,
And with the birds take part
In singing songs of grateful joy
That thou hast waked from sleep,
That thou again dost see the light,
Hast risen from the deep;
The grave where thou so long hast lain.
To raise thy head on high,
And looking up to Deity
Once more; then droop and die.
Alas! Thy days are all too short
For thy long dreamless sleep.
When thou dost wake again to life,
Wilt thou awake to weep?
If thou rememberest aught of past,
Thou mayst perhaps regret
The flowers, and trees, now dead and gone,
And for them mourn e’en yet.
A generation will have passed;
A new one thou wilt greet;
All will be strangers unto thee,
No friend of past thou’lt meet.