He who has nothing in his soul
That links him to the sod,
Knows not that joy of self-control
Which lifts him up to God.
And I am glad my heart can say,
When others trip and fall
(Although I safely passed that way),
“I understand it all.”
His Mansion.
THERE was a thought he hid from all men’s eyes,
And by his prudent life and deeds of worth
He left a goodly record upon earth
As one both pure and wise.
But when he reached a dark unsightly door
Beyond the grave, there stood his secret thought.
It was the mansion he had built and brought
To dwell in, on that shore.
Effect.
AN unkind tale was whispered in his ear.
He paused to hear.
His thoughts were food that helped a falsehood thrive,
And keep alive.
Years dawned and died. One day by venom’s tongue
His name was stung.
He cried aloud, nor dreamed the lie was spawn
Of thoughts long gone.
Each mental wave we send out from the mind,
Or base, or kind,
Completes its circuit, then with added force
Seeks its own source.