* * * * *

  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 briars
    Growing rank against the wall,
  For it may be that their shadow
    Hides the heaviest grain 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 battle field 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 and dare. 
  If you want a field of labor
    You can find it anywhere.

Ellen M.H.  Gates.

VICTORY

To fail is not a disgrace; the disgrace lies in not trying.  In his old age Sir Walter Scott found that a publishing firm he was connected with was heavily in debt.  He refused to take advantage of the bankruptcy law, and sat down with his pen to make good the deficit.  Though he wore out his life in the struggle and did not live to see the debt entirely liquidated, he died an honored and honorable man.

  I call no fight a losing fight
  If, fighting, I have gained some straight new strength;
  If, fighting, I turned ever toward the light,
  All unallied with forces of the night;
  If, beaten, quivering, I could say at length: 
  “I did no deed that needs to be unnamed;
  I fought—­and lost—­and I am unashamed.”

Miriam Teichner.

TIMES GO BY TURNS

One of the greatest blessings in life is alteration.  The ins become outs, the outs ins; the ups become downs, the downs ups; and so on—­and it is better so.  We must not get too highly elated at success, for life is not all success.  We must not grow too downcast from failure, for life is not all failure.

  The lopped tree in time may grow again,
    Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower;
  The sorriest wight may find release of pain,
    The driest soil suck in some moistening shower;
  Time goes by turns, and chances change by course,
    From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.

  The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow;
    She draws her favors to the lowest ebb;
  Her tides have equal times to come and go;
    Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web;
  No joy so great but runneth to an end,
    No hap so hard but may in fine amend.

  Not always fall of leaf, nor ever Spring;
    Not endless night, yet not eternal day;
  The saddest birds a season find to sing;
    The roughest storm a calm may soon allay. 
  Thus, with succeeding turns God tempereth all,
    That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall.