Master of human destinies am I.
Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait,
Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate
Deserts and seas remote, and, passing by
Hovel, and mart, and palace, soon or late
I knock unbidden once at every gate!
If sleeping wake-if feasting, rise before
I turn away. It is the hour of fate,
And they who follow me reach every state
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe
Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate,
Condemned to failure, penury, and woe,
Seek me in vain and uselessly implore,
I answer not, and I return no more.
(This was President Lincoln's favorite song, one which he encored no less than eighteen times when sung at a Sunday school convention in Washington in 1864.)
If you cannot on the ocean
Sail among the swiftest fleet
Rocking on the highest billows,
Laughing at the storms you meet,
You can stand among the sailors,
Anchored yet within the bay,
You can lend a hand to help them
As they launch their boats away.
If you are too weak to journey
Up the mountain, steep and high,
You can stand within the valley
While the multitudes go by;
You can chant in happy measure
As they slowly pass along-
Though they may forget the singer,
They will not forget the song.
If you have not gold and silver
Ever ready at command;
If you cannot toward the needy
Reach an ever-helping hand,
You can succor the afflicted,
O'er the erring you can weep;
With the Savior's true disciples
You a tireless watch may keep.
If you cannot in the harvest
Garner up the richest sheaves,
Many a grain, both ripe and golden,
Oft the careless reaper leaves;
Go and glean among the briers
Growing rank against the wall,
For it may be that their shadow
Hides the heaviest wheat of all.
If you cannot in the conflict
Prove yourself a soldier true, If where fire and smoke are thickest There's no work for you to do,
When the battlefield is silent,
You can go with careful tread-
You can bear away the wounded,
You can cover up the dead.
Do not, then, stand idly waiting
For some greater work to do;
Fortune is a lazy goddess-
She will never come to you.
Go and toil in any vineyard;
Do not fear to do or dare-
If you want a field of labor
You can find it anywhere.
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
Let the water and the blood
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure.
Save from guilt and make me pure.
Could my tears forever flow;
Could my zeal no languor know;
These for sin could not atone,
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save and Thou alone.
Nothing in my hand I bring;
Simply to Thy cross I cling.
Naked, come to Thee for dress,
Helpless, look to Thee for grace.
Foul, I to the Fountain fly,
Wash me, Savior, or I die.
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When mine eyes shall close in death.
When I rise to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment throne-
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
"Thank God every morning when you get up that you have something to do that day which must be done, whether you like it or not. Being forced to work, and forced to do your best, will breed in you temperance and self-control, diligence and strength of will, cheerfulness and content, and a hundred virtues which the idle never know." Charles Kingsley.
MAKE CHILDHOOD SWEET.
Wait not till the little hands are at rest
Ere you fill them full of flowers;
Wait not for the crowning tuberose
To make sweet the last sad hours;
But while in the busy household band
Your darlings still need your guiding hand,
Oh fill their lives with sweetness!
Wait not till the little hearts are still
For the loving look of praise;
But while you gently chide a fault,
The good deed kindly praise.
The word you would speak beside the bier
Falls sweeter far on the living ear:
Oh fill young lives with sweetness!
Ah, what are kisses on clay-cold lips
To the rosy mouth we press,
When our wee one flies to her mother's arms
For love's tenderest caress!
Let never a worldly babble keep
Your heart from the joy each day should reap,
Circling young lives with sweetness.
Give thanks each morn for the sturdy boys,
Give thanks for the fairy girls;
With a dower of wealth like this at home,
Would you rifle the earth for pearls?
Wait not for Death to gem Love's crown,
But daily shower life's blessings down,
And fill young hearts with sweetness.
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