Brethren, as you down life’s pathway
Pass with firm and stately tread
When success shall crown your efforts
And its glories round you shed—
There’s a truth that e’er existeth,—
Though of high or lowly birth—
When death’s Angel for you calleth
You’ll own just “six feet of earth.”
Though you’re rich in lands and mansions,—
Though you’ve gold and jewels rare—
Though your life is bright and sunny
Never knows a want or care.—
Though a brother’s life of sorrow
Different is from yours of mirth;
Yet some day he’ll be your equal—
Both will own “six feet of earth.”
Turn your gaze to scenes Immortal—
Is your chance of Heaven more sure
Than the lowly one, possessing
Naught of fame, but heart most pure?
Nay, your riches ne’er can save you,
Virtue is the Gem of Worth;
You your wealth can not take with you
To the last “six feet of earth.”
Jesus once was poor and lowly,
And His crown held many a thorn;
Yet His heavenly Father loved Him
As He suffered grief and scorn.—
If your soul is pure and stainless
You have Wealth,—there’ll ne’er be dearth;
When at last the clay is sleeping
In your own “six feet of earth.”
CHANGEABLE
Beneath an apple tree she sat
Amid bright leaf and flower,
Telling of what she would do,
Were it within her power:
She’d civilize the heathen poor,—
She’d meet the wary foe,
And drive them till their trackless paths
Were through eternal snow.
With strong nerve she would care for those
Who are stricken down in war
And cheer the sick and suffering ones
Without a bit of awe.
She’d soothe the fevered ones to rest
And bathe each aching head,—
And never would she shrink from pain,
But bravely work, instead.