Henry van Dyke
Thou wayfaring Jesus a pilgrim and stranger, Exiled from heaven by love at Thy birth Exiled again from Thy rest in the manger, A fugitive child 'mid the perils of earth Cheer with Thy fellowship all who are weary, Wandering far from the land that they love Guide every heart that is homeless and dreary, Safe to its home in Thy presence above.
Ere thou sleepest, gently lay Every troubled thought away Put off worry and distress As thou puttest off thy dress Drop thy burden and thy care In the quiet arms of prayer. Lord thou knowest how I live, All IVE DONE AMISS FORGIVE ALL OF GOOD IVE TRIED TO DO STRENGTHEN, bless and carry through All I love in safety keep While in Thee I fall asleep.
Memory is a capricious and arbitrary creature. You never can tell what pebble she will pick up from the shore of life to keep among her treasures, or what inconspicuous flower of the field she will preserve as the symbol of 'thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.' ... And yet I do not doubt that the most Important things are always the best remembered.
There is a life that is worth living now as it was worth living in the former days, and that is the honest life, the useful life, the unselfish life, cleansed by devotion to an ideal. There is a battle worth fighting now as it was worth fighting then, and that is the battle for justice and equality to make our city and our state free in fact as well as in name to break the rings that strangle real liberty, and to keep them broken to cleanse, so far as in our power lies, the fountains of our national life from political, commercial, and social corruption to teach our sons and daughters, by precept and example, the honor of serving such a country as America. That is work worthy of the finest manhood and womanhood.
If all the skies were sunshine Our faces would be fain To feel once more upon them The cooling splash of rain. If all the world were music, Our hearts would often long For one sweet strain of silence, To break the endless song If life were always merry, Our souls would seek relief, And rest from weary laughter In the quiet arms of grief.
These are the things I prize And hold of dearest worth Light of the sapphire skies, Peace of the silent hills, Shelter of the forests, comfort of the grass, Music of birds, murmur of little rills, Shadows of cloud that swiftly pass, And, after showers, The smell of flowers And of the good brown earth, And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth.