III.
You will bend beneath the burdens as you meet the toils of life,
And your arms will ache a little as you labor down the way;
But the rest of God's perfection waits beyond the bitter strife
And He crowns the souls that struggle with His Everlasting Day!
O, my children! Don't you murmur,
As you go along;
Look above to God's Anointed,
And you'll hear the Song!
Caught on the Fly.
When Love leaves life, Laughter packs up her things and gets ready to move.
When Hope dies in the heart, all its poor relations refuse to remain for the funeral services.
The people who are all the time trying to manage other people should remember that though Providence created Man in His own image, it has been unable to manage him ever since.
"When Canderdates Git After Pa."
When canderdates git after Pa,
Set up seegars, an' tell him flat
How big a man he is, and Ma
How good she cooks, an' all of that,
I slip aroun' an' let 'em know
I'm something on the homestead, too,
Fer onct upon a time or so
They'll hand a nickel out fer you!
When they come here, it's mighty fine!
Pa stops the team, an' work we quit
An' them there fellere stays to dine
An' talk the day-lights outen it!
They tell us how the gover'ment
Is goin' on, an' quote the law
An' tell their choice fer president,
When canderdates git after Pa!
An' then they'll brag about his farm;
How fine his hogs an' hosses air;
How slick his cattle, till my arm
Gits tired at all the jollies there!
An' then they tell Ma she's a peach,
A honey-lulu without flaw,
A angel fur beyond their reach,
When canderdates git after Pa.
When after dinner they hitch up
He sends me out to feed the shoats,
An' then they drink with nary cup
An' talk about the township votes;
An' after they git gone, Pa he
Has got a breath that's orful raw;
But I tell you it's nuts to me
When canderdates git after Pa!
Don't Worry.
O, brother, don't you worry,—
Don't you sob or sigh;
Just soak yourself with sunshine
And let the world go by!
What matters all, my brother.
The world may do or say?
For you and I outlive the sky
And it lives but a day!
Keep at work, my brother;
Keep at work I say!
There's not a cosy corner
For lazy ones that play;
And as through life you labor
And gladly jog along,
Just soak yourself with sunshine
And fill your heart with song!
Little Sermons.
If Heaven is too far away for you to reach out and shake hands with it, there is something wrong with your conduct.
If this life isn't worth living well, how do you expect to take one with you into another world that will be worth any more?
While you are praying for the unregenerate sinners of this world, don't forget to put in a word now and then for your own personal benefit.
"The Lord is Good to Me."
"The Lord is good to me!" he said,
As on his bended knees he knelt
Above his meager crust of bread
And voiced the gratitude he felt;
And from his supplications, he
Arose with strength renewed to face
The pinchings of his poverty,
The sorrows of his humble place.
"The Lord is good to me!" she prayed
Above her sleeping babe at rest,
While smiles of exaltation played
Across her features, care oppressed;
And from the crib of anguish where
The fever-wasted baby slept
She happy slipped away from care
And all the anxious tears she wept.
"The Lord is good to me!" he cried
'Mid life's wild wreck as close he grasped
The scattered fragments to his side
Of millions lost that once he clasped:
And with a peace and thankfulness
He never knew when Fortune smiled,
He put behind him all distress
And laughed as lightly as a child.
"The Lord is good to me!" How slight
The gifts of God we grateful bless,
While countless treasures of delight
Escape the praise of thankfulness!
Through days of sunshine and of rain,
Through nights of griefs and rhapsody,
How I forget with high disdain
How much the Lord is good to me!
Caught on the Fly.
In these days of beef trust domination, every man is known by the breakfast food he [eats].
The charity that covers a multitude of sins generally runs mighty short of blankets in the winter time.
Fishing poles are now out of date, but the candidates are bidding mighty lively for the pole that is long enough to reach the persimmon.
A Doubtful Voter.
"Well, Jimmy, how's your Pa getting along with his corn-shucking and cotton picking?" inquired Bill Smith of his neighbor's son, which neighbor was noted for his industry and thrifty habits.
"Pap's gittin' erlong fine with 'em," answered the boy. "Ye see there's five county tickets in the field a-runnin' this year, an' pap's a doubtful voter; an' whenever a candidate comes, pap jes' goes erlong shuckin' corn or pickin' cotton, an' the candidate helps him fer the sake of comp'ny. We've got all our corn shucked, en ef we hev no bad weather, there won't be cotton enough left to pick by 'lection day to lint yer whiskers with!"
Another Vintage.
"It is more of the Spirit of '76 that we need!" shouted the campaign orator.
"I haven't any of the spirits of '76," broke in a bystander in the audience. "But I've a quart of 'white mule' here in my pocket as fine as was ever brewed, if that will relieve your wants any!"
Providence Takes Care of his Own.
"De Lawd am pow'ful good to de culled fokes," said a negro philosopher speaking from his dusky meditations. "No soonah am de wohtah-millions gone de way ob all de yarth dan de pahsimmons git ripe ernuff toh make de possum fat, bress de Lawd!"
Forgotten.
He conquered all the foes that bannered wrong;
He strove with might and did heroic deeds;
Yet nameless he; for to his lofty meeds
None wrought the immortality of song.
Give Us More.
No matter how the world may go,
How high it heaps our store,
For all the joys that banish woe
We always wish for more!
And from the cares that fume and fret,
We cry as e'er before:
"We thank thee, Lord, for what we get,
But give us more,—still more!"