It Can Be Done Part 25

Lessing said that if G.o.d should come to him with truth in one hand and the never-ending pursuit of truth in the other, and should offer him his choice, he would humbly and reverently take the pursuit of truth.

Perhaps it is best that finite beings should not attain infinite success. But however remote that for which they seek or strive, they may by their diligence and generosity make the very effort to secure it n.o.ble. In doing this they earn, as Pope tells us, a truer commendation than success itself could bring them. "Act well thy part; there all the honor lies."

Let's play it out--this little game called Life, Where we are listed for so brief a spell; Not just to win, amid the tumult rife, Or where acclaim and gay applauses swell; Nor just to conquer where some one must lose, Or reach the goal whatever be the cost; For there are other, better ways to choose, Though in the end the battle may be lost.

Let's play it out as if it were a sport Wherein the game is better than the goal, And never mind the detailed "score's" report Of errors made, if each with dauntless soul But stick it out until the day is done, Not wasting fairness for success or fame, So when the battle has been lost or won, The world at least can say: "He played the game."

Let's play it out--this little game called Work, Or War or Love or what part each may draw; Play like a man who scorns to quit or shirk Because the break may carry some deep flaw; Nor simply holding that the goal is all That keeps the player in the contest staying; But stick it out from curtain rise to fall, As if the game itself were worth the playing.

_Grantland Rice._

From "The Sportlight."

COURAGE

The philosopher Kant held himself to his habits so precisely that people set their watches by him as he took his daily walk. We may be equally constant amid worldly vicissitudes, but only a man of true courage is.

'Tis the front towards life that matters most-- The tone, the point of view, The constancy that in defeat Remains untouched and true;

For death in patriot fight may be Less gallant than a smile, And high endeavor, to the G.o.ds, Seems in itself worth while!

_Florence Earle Coates._

From "Poems."

A GOOD NAME

We should respect the good name of other people, and should safeguard our own by a high sense of honor. At the close of the Civil War a representative of an insurance company offered Robert E. Lee the presidency of the firm at a salary of $50,000 a year. Lee replied that while he wished to earn his living, he doubted whether his services would be worth so large a sum. "We don't want your services," the man interrupted; "we want your name." "That," said Lee, quietly, "is not for sale." He accepted, instead, the presidency of a college at $1500 a year.

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.

_William Shakespeare._

SWELLITIS

A certain employer of large numbers of men makes it a principle to praise none of them, not because they are undeserving, and not because he dislikes to commend, but because experience has taught him that usually the praise goes to the head of the recipient, both impairing his work and making it harder for others to a.s.sociate with him. A good test of a man is his way of taking commendation. He may, even while grateful, be stirred to humility that he has not done better still, and may resolve to accomplish more. Or imitating the frog who wished to look like an ox, he may swell and swell until--figuratively speaking--he bursts.

Somebody said he'd done it well, And presto! his head began to swell; Bigger and bigger the poor thing grew-- A wonder it didn't split in two.

In size a balloon could scarcely match it; He needed a fishing-pole to scratch it;--- But six and a half was the size of his hat, And it rattled around on his head at that!

"Good work," somebody chanced to say, And his chest swelled big as a load of hay.

About himself, like a rooster, he crowed; Of his wonderful work he bragged and blowed He marched around with a peac.o.c.k strut; Gigantic to him was the figure he cut;-- But he wore a very small-sized suit, And loosely it hung on him, to boot!

HE was the chap who made things hum!

HE was the drumstick and the drum!

HE was the shirt bosom and the starch!

HE was the keystone in the arch!

HE was the axis of the earth!

Nothing existed before his birth!

But when he was off from work a n.o.body knew that he was away!

This is a fact that is sad to tell: It's the empty head that is bound to swell; It's the light-weight fellow who soars to the skies And bursts like a bubble before your eyes.

A big man is humbled by honest praise, And tries to think of all the ways To improve his work and do it well;-- But a little man starts of himself to yell!

_Joseph Morris:_

CARES

To those who are wearied, fretted, and worried there is no physician like nature. When our nerves are frazzled and our sleep is unrefreshing, we can find no better antidote to the clamorous grind and frenzy of the city than the stillness and solitude of hills, streams, and tranquil stars. That man lays up for himself resources of strength who now and then exchanges the ledger for green leaves, the factory for wild flowers, business for brook-croon and bird-song.

The little cares that fretted me, I lost them yesterday Among the fields above the sea, Among the winds at play; Among the lowing of the herds, The rustling of the trees, Among the singing of the birds, The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what may happen, I cast them all away Among the clover-scented gra.s.s, Among the new-mown hay; Among the husking of the corn Where drowsy poppies nod, Where ill thoughts die and good are born Out in the fields with G.o.d.

_Elisabeth Barrett Browning._

FAITH