O Lord, I pray that I may e'er delight in springtime's fairy blossoms pink and white, in green and lacy leaves; may never lose the joy that always springs at sight of all the little daily things—of brightly-patterned weaves; of gaily-coloured china; rich, dark grains that glow long after daylight wanes, wood of time-burnished hue. And joy in sounds—the blackbird's thrilling call, the human voice letting rich phrases fall, all precious gifts from You. O Lord, I pray that I may face each task and rise to its demands, nor ever ask that others bear my load; that I may prove a loyal and helpful friend before I reach the journey's quiet end along the winding road.
A LITTLE THOUGHTLESSNESS
A little thoughtlessness, so very slight—but someone's sunny day was turned to night. Someone was caused unnecessary pain, and it takes time e'er wounds are healed again. A little thoughtless phrase dropped like a leaf—yet someone heard and, through it, suffered grief. A little thoughtlessness; the mere not doing of some small act we might have done so well. Perhaps e'er long we shall be sorely ruing this slight omission more than words can tell. The things we do not do! Ah, this is true, they often hurt far more than what we do. A little thoughtlessness, or little thought; between these two what differences are wrought! A little thought for others, word or act—a cheery smile or letter writ with tact, a putting of ourselves where others stand, the understanding heart, the helping hand. The "I remember," not, "Oh, I forgot"—a little thoughtfulness has helped a lot.
MAKE ME NORMAL
Make me normal, I would pray. Keep me normal, day by day. Strong, I pray Thee, balanced, sane; normal body, normal brain. I would be, if I might choose, somewhat witty to amuse; somewhat clever to achieve; somewhat capable to grieve; somewhat kind to offer balm; somewhat like a quiet psalm; somewhat fiery when need be; ever quick with sympathy; not too good, nor yet too bad; often happy, sometimes sad; just a normal, decent friend, courage-girt unto the end! Not a genius hard to please; rather one who can with ease, find, wherever she may go, people she is glad to know. Merely normal, every way—for this blessing I would pray.
LIFE, THE TEACHER
Here is a truth the years have slowly taught me. There's not an effort ever made in vain; though fate within its painful clutch has caught me, farther along the road I've gone—through pain. Here is a lesson life has slowly taught me: to chase good Fortune is young folly's way. Always I've found that she herself has sought me when love of work alone has filled my day. There's not a fault that I have e'er committed, there's no mistake that I have ever made, that has not into life's mosaic fitted; this is a law that ever is obeyed. There's not a thread I've used, though it be knotted, but has in my life's pattern found its place. There's not a page, though with mistakes it's blotted, that does not show of destiny some trace. Here is a truth that I have grown to cherish: no righteous battle's ever fought in vain; nor does a thought or deed of goodness perish, but, like a tree, brings forth its fruit again.
THE SINGING KETTLE
Up to its neck in water, boiling water, too. Yet the kettle keeps on singing—that's what we ought to do! Next time we're in some trouble, almost up to the chin, we'll think of the cheerful kettle, and a little song begin. It helps, when feelings are boiling, to let off lots of steam. Whistle and sing with courage; things aren't as black as they seem. Kettle, you merry creature, scorched by the callous fire, teach us your power of moulding the will to the day's desire. Up to your neck in troubles? They haven't swept over your head! Sing like the steaming kettle, till all your troubles have fled. Singing will sound so pleasant to any who chance to hear. The kettle does naught by its duty—but doesn't its singing cheer!