Every man, woman, or child
When nearing trouble or something vile,
Should gently turn
And never yearn
Whene’er conscience speaks.
THE PLUCK OF A POET
For my little humble talent
I turn thanks to our God.
Though each time I try to show it
I meet with the world of odds.
Though He blessed me with my gift,
And He will bless me along the way,
He is giving me love and wisdom
And He will bring a brighter day.
These are words of a poor poet,
And what I write is true,
I long to go before the world
To try and show what I can do.
If one could only see me now,
My lips are numb, shows sorrow deep.
This is after my daily labor
That these thoughts through my mind does creep.
God gives me strength to work,
To earn my daily bread,
Then revives me for my writing
To show that my blood is red.
Why swell up o’er talent
Or activeness of brain?
God giveth and he taketh
As easy as it twinkles down rain.
LIFE PLAIN AS DAY
Life lays out its happiness and sorrows,
You’re to choose either for to-day or to-morrow,
We can be happy our whole life through
In regarding our company and the things we do.
Let the other fellow think what he will or may,
I’ll choose happiness, it really pays.
Life holds a beauty that shineth like gold,
Seek it while you’re young, don’t wait to get old.
Day by day it comes to us all,
So fly not so high, remember your fall.
One moment we’re up and the next we’re down,
Try to take the ladder without a frown.
For our lives are planned out with time and space
And we are truly guided by an unseen face.
The blossoms of life has petals so dear;
Then deal with them gently and handle with care,
There’s like the rose in the garden that blooms,
That gives to the breeze their wafted perfume,
But the way the frost makes its petals fly
This teaches us that we all must die.