Be true to Right: let Justice still Her even balance claim; Unawed, unbribed, through good or ill, Unswayed by prejudice, your mind Then cast, according to your light, Be true to Truth: the proudest name No gem that arduous toil may find Be true to Reason: let her light Be ever glorified, And make through life her beacon bright A fixed, enduring guide. False views of life young faith may blind, False creeds allure the youthful mind And its adherence win; But reason's steady light to thee An oracle of truth shall be,— A monitor within. Be true to Self-Respect: the world Keep thou the upright ways that find These are the virtues, these the ways, And each good deed, each wrong withstood, Throughout all coming time! ANONYMOUS A servant with this clause Makes drudgery divine; Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws, Makes that and th'action fine. 178 GEORGE HERBERT OUR OWN If I had known, in the morning, How wearily all the day The words unkind would trouble my mind I spoke when you went away, I had been more careful, darling, Nor given you needless pain; But we vex our own with look and tone For though in the quiet evening, You may give me the kiss of peace, Yet it well might be that never for me The pain of the heart should cease! How many go forth at morning Who never come home at night; And hearts have broken for harsh words spoken That sorrow can ne'er set right. We have careful thought for the stranger, Ah, brow with the shade of scorn, 'Twere a cruel fate were the night too late To undo the work of the morn. ANONYMOUS 179 THE UPRIGHT MAN The man of life upright, whose guiltless heart is free From all dishonest deeds and thoughts of vanity; The man whose silent days in harmless joys are spent, Whom hopes cannot delude, nor fortune discontent; That man needs neither towers nor armor for de fence, Nor secret vaults to fly from thunder's violence; The horrors of the deep and terrors of the skies; Thus scorning all the care that fate or fortune brings, He makes the heaven his book, his wisdom heavenly things; Good thoughts his only friends, his wealth a well spent age, The earth his sober inn and quiet pilgrimage. 180 FRANCIS BACON THE ANSWER "Allah, Allah!" cried the sick man, racked with pain the long night through; Till with prayer his heart grew tender, till his lips like honey grew. But at morning came the Tempter; said, "Call louder, child of Pain! See if Allah ever hears, or answers 'Here am I' again." Like a stab the cruel cavil through his brain and pulses went; To his heart an icy coldness, to his brain a darkness sent. Then before him stands Elias; says, " My child, why thus dismayed? Dost repent thy former fervor? Is thy soul of prayer afraid?" |