I know no greater shame than this: 
      To feel that yours were empty years;
    That after death no man would miss
      Your presence in this vale of tears;
    That you had breathed the fragrant air
      And sat by kindly fires that burn,
    And in earth’s riches had a share
      But gave no labor in return.

    Yet some men die this way, nor care: 
      They enter and they leave life’s door
    And at the end, their record’s bare—­
      The world’s no better than before. 
    A few false tears are shed, and then,
      In busy service, they’re forgot. 
    We have no time to mourn for men
      Who lived on earth but served it not.

    A man in perfect peace to die
      Must leave some mark of toil behind,
    Some building towering to the sky,
      Some symbol that his heart was kind,
    Some roadway where strange feet may tread
      That out of gratitude he made;
    He cannot bravely look ahead
      Unless his debt to life is paid.

         The Proof of Worth

Though victory’s proof of the skill you possess,
Defeat is the proof of your grit;
A weakling can smile in his days of success,
But at trouble’s first sign he will quit. 
So the test of the heart and the test of your pluck
Isn’t skies that are sunny and fair,
But how do you stand to the blow that is struck
And how do you battle despair?

    A fool can seem wise when the pathway is clear
      And it’s easy to see the way out,
    But the test of man’s judgment is something to fear,
      And what does he do when in doubt? 
    And the proof of his faith is the courage he shows
      When sorrows lie deep in his breast;
    It’s the way that he suffers the griefs that he knows
      That brings out his worst or his best.

    The test of a man is how much he will bear
      For a cause which he knows to be right,
    How long will he stand in the depths of despair,
      How much will he suffer and fight? 
    There are many to serve when the victory’s near
      And few are the hurts to be borne,
    But it calls for a leader of courage to cheer
      The men in a battle forlorn.

    It’s the way you hold out against odds that are great
      That proves what your courage is worth,
    It’s the way that you stand to the bruises of fate
      That shows up your stature and girth. 
    And victory’s nothing but proof of your skill,
      Veneered with a glory that’s thin,
    Unless it is proof of unfaltering will,
      And unless you have suffered to win.

         Follow a Famous Father

I follow a famous father,
His honor is mine to wear;
He gave me a name that was free from shame,
A name he was proud to bear. 
He lived in the morning sunlight,
And marched in the ranks of right. 
He was always true to the best he knew
And the shield that he wore was bright.