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GRATITUDE
Be grateful for the kindly friends that walk
along your way;
Be grateful for the skies of blue that smile
from day to day;
Be grateful for the health you own, the work
you find to do,
For round about you there are men less fortu-
nate than you.
Be grateful for the growing trees, the roses
soon to bloom,
The tenderness of kindly hearts that shared your
days of gloom;
Be grateful for the morning dew, the grass
beneath your feet,
The soft caresses of your babes and all their
laughter sweet.
Acquire the grateful habit, learn to see how blest
you are,
How much there is to gladden life, how little
life to mar!
And what if rain shall fall to-day and you with
grief are sad;
Be grateful that you can recall the joys that
you have had.
HARD WORK
One day, in ages dark and dim,
A toiler, weary, worn and faint,
Who found his task too much for him,
Gave voice unto a sad complaint.
And seeking emphasis to give
Unto his trials (day ill-starred!)
Coupled to ” work ” this adjective,
This little word of terror: Hard.
And from that day to this has work
Its frightening description worn;
‘Tis spoken daily by the shirk,
The first cloud on the sky at morn.
To-day when there are tasks to do,
Save that we keep ourselves on guard
With fearful doubtings them we view,
And think and speak of them as hard.
That little but ill-chosen word
Has wrought great havoc with men’s souls,
Has chilled the hearts ambition stirred
And held the pass to splendid goals.
Great dreams have faded and been lost,
Fine youth by it been sadly marred
As plants beneath a withering frost,
Because men thought and whispered : “Hard.’
Let’s think of work in terms of hope
And speak of it with words of praise,
And tell the joy it is to grope
Along the new, untrodden ways!
Let’s break this habit of despair
And cheerfully our task regard;
The road to happiness lies there:
Why think or speak of it as hard?
EXPECTATION
Most folks, as I’ve noticed, in pleasure an’
strife,
Are always expecting too much out of life.
They wail an’ they fret
Just because they don’t get
The best o’ the sunshine, the fairest o’ flowers,
The finest o’ features, the strongest o’ powers;
They whine an’ they whimper an’ curse an’
condemn,
Coz life isn’t always bein’ partial to them.
Notwithstandin’ the pain an’ the sufferin’ they
see,
They cling to the notion that they should go
free:
That they shouldn’t share
In life’s trouble an’ care
But should always be happy an’ never perplexed,
An’ never discouraged or beaten or vexed.
When life treats ‘em roughly an’ jolts ‘em with
care,
They seem to imagine it’s bein 1 unfair.
It’s a curious notion folks hold in their pride,
That their souls should never be tested or tried ;
That others must mourn
An’ be sick an’ forlorn
An’ stand by the biers of their loved ones an’
weep,
But life from such sorrows their bosoms must
keep.
Oh, they mustn’t know what it means to be sad,
Or they’ll wail that the treatment they’re gettin’
is bad.
Now life as I view it means pleasure an’ pain,
An’ laughter an’ weepin’ an’ sunshine an’ rain,
An’ takin’ an’ givin’ ;
An’ all who are livin’
Must face it an’ bear it the best that they can
Believin’ great Wisdom is workin’ the plan.
An’ no one should ever complain it’s unfair
Because at the moment he’s tastin’ despair.