PS 3545 
 .0798 
 C5 
 Copy 1 
 
 
 '"^^is M.Water<^ 
 
Copyright, 1 9 1 7, by Louis M. Waterman 
 
 ©CI.A4802^9 
 
 ^OV 28 1917 
 
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 "■ ^ ^' 
 
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Texas Baptist Memorial Sanitarium 
 
 Dallas, Texas 
 Louis M. Waterman, Chaplain 
 
 The Price of this Booklet (25 Cents) goes into the Sanitarium Charity Fund 
 
[PRELUDE] 
 
 GARLAND THE LIVING. 
 
 Why should we wait, O friends beloved. 
 
 To praise the dead? 
 All praise is false that is not true 
 
 Till life is fled; 
 If true in life, to voice it then 
 
 Were better far; 
 Who love evokes is make of stuff 
 
 No praise may mar. 
 
 If others joy to see our wreath 
 
 Bedeck the dead, 
 They joy no less to see us crown 
 
 The living head ; 
 While those sweet words which other hearts 
 
 With music throng, 
 Will thrill the very one we praise 
 
 With endless song. 
 
Cheeri^ Chimes 
 
 By Louis M. Waterman 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 While hale we are and hearty 
 
 No mortal thinks of him; 
 We toss him into discard 
 
 While sound in life and limb; 
 But, ah, when illness grips us 
 
 He towers before our face 
 The one outstanding figure 
 
 In all the human race. 
 
 We crown him for his triumphs 
 
 With lancet keen and sure, 
 And pungent medications 
 
 A thousand ills that cure; 
 Then add this brightest laurel 
 
 That ever mortal wore: 
 Earth knows no benefactor 
 
 So gracious to the poor! 
 
 He lends his genial presence 
 
 To celebrate our birth. 
 And then he does his utmost 
 
 To keep us on the earth. 
 Then, hats off to the Doctor! 
 
 For no man earns his fee 
 To buy all earth may offer 
 
 More worthily than he. 
 
 The world has lofty statesmen. 
 
 Deserving golden meed; 
 And prophets, artists, craftsmen. 
 
 Essential to our need; 
 But if there were no Doctors 
 
 Betwixt us and death's bier. 
 How many of us, think you, 
 
 Would now be even here? 
 
THE NURSE. 
 
 The flower of our fair womanhood, 
 Alert to bless, attend this task — 
 Beneath God's favoring smile to bask 
 
 And do such deeds as angels would. 
 
 Here Science as her handmaid serves: 
 In union they o'er sufferers bend. 
 Till potently their efforts blend 
 
 To hush the cry of tortured nerves. 
 
 By grace of sisterhood's sweet power. 
 Incarnate in her gentle care, 
 Life's fitful spark is made to flare 
 
 And bring again hope's radiant hour. 
 
 The touch of mother's ministry. 
 For which the ill must ever yearn. 
 The Nurse so duplicates, we turn 
 
 To see if mother by our side might be. 
 
 No calling were so wondrous fine: 
 A wizard to the sufferer, she — 
 As through her healing witchery 
 
 Men drink again Life's golden wine. 
 
 Her flight is plumed toward this high sphere: 
 When short of this she falls, to you. 
 Remember she is human, too. 
 
 And lend her wings a breath of cheer. 
 
 THE PATIENT. 
 
 The Hospital knows no eclipse: 
 The only palace where a chalice 
 
 Brimmed with healing greets all lips — 
 And mercy never groweth callous. 
 
 Ho, Inmate on your couch of pain ! 
 
 Let some good fairy troubles bury; 
 For lo, your pangs already wane. 
 
 And joy would come with you to tarry. 
 
 Remember, none may dare avouch. 
 Though your physician be magician. 
 
 To heal you while you hug a grouch — 
 Don't handicap )'our own condition! 
 
 For you are climbing Wellville Heights; 
 
 Nay, do not doubt it; sing about it; 
 For there's no goblin that affrights 
 
 But cheeriness shall surely rout it. 
 
 "A merry heart is medicine" — 
 
 Our God hath said it, yea, He spread it 
 On Holy Pages — Have it, then. 
 
 And for its tonic give Him credit. 
 
 Let Doctor, Nurse and Patient join 
 To rout diseases; thus God pleases 
 
 To put His touch on troubled loin 
 And every mortal anguish eases. 
 
 -6 — 
 
THE VISITOR. 
 
 With eye a-gaze and tongue a-tune 
 
 For only brightest things — 
 With face a-gleam like light at noon 
 
 Aglow on sea-gull wings — 
 We may invade the sick-room, now, 
 
 Where pain's deep shadows lie. 
 To scatter clouds from troubled brow 
 
 And gloom from anguished eye. 
 
 If brevity be the soul of wit, 
 
 'Tis substance, soul and all 
 When we beside a sufferer sit 
 
 To make a cheery call; 
 To tarry, prodigal of speech 
 
 Throughout a weary stay. 
 Is ling'ring but to be a leech 
 
 And drain good cheer away. 
 
 We'd better keep aloof, by far. 
 
 Save optimists we be. 
 With hopefulness that nought may mar 
 
 In sufferings we see. 
 While life is life and God is God 
 
 Hush moanings of despair; 
 For all who breathe above the sod 
 
 Keep music in the air! 
 
 THE CHAPLAIN. 
 
 'Tis but your comrade he would be 
 
 To lend a bit of sympathy. 
 
 Your strength to save pain's sea to brave 
 
 And lift your head above the wave. 
 
 Then rear no walls of reticence 
 Betwixt him and your confidence; 
 No ax to grind has he, you'll find. 
 But just to be completely kind. 
 
 If godly counsel you should crave. 
 
 Or hear anew how Love would save. 
 
 At your behest he'll do his best 
 
 To make your God your welcome guest. 
 
 If you already know the Lord, 
 He'll help you sound hope's happy chord — 
 How God must bless in faithfulness 
 And pilot you through each distress. 
 
 E'en though there be a score of things 
 On which your need its changes rings. 
 To aught a friend might do, depend 
 He will most cheerful effort lend. 
 
 He'll gladly furnish winsome books, 
 TTiat hours may flow like limpid brooks. 
 Till joy you quaff with song and laugh 
 And seize once more life's pilgrim staff! 
 
 -7 — 
 
THE MIST BROTHERS. 
 
 When I say his name is Pessi, 
 And his family name is Mist, 
 
 And his brother's name is Opti — 
 Of my tale you have the gist. 
 
 Both these brothers wear big goggles- 
 Those of Pessi sombre blue, 
 
 While the spectacles of Opti 
 Are a bright and rosy hue. 
 
 Count that each of these two brothers 
 Is as honest as you please, 
 
 When he glances through his glasses 
 And describes just what he sees. 
 
 Ask of Pessi, How's the weather? — 
 On some sunny day and fair — 
 
 And he'll glance about and answer: 
 Storms are brewing everywhere. 
 
 Ask of Opti, when the noon-time 
 
 Is as gloomy as the night. 
 And he'll look and say. Right soon, sir. 
 
 Shall the sun be beaming bright. 
 
 Ask of Pessi how the crops are, 
 
 WTien the grain is thick and green. 
 
 And most woefully he'll answer: 
 Signs of drouth are plainly seen. 
 
 Ask of Opti, when the prospect 
 Is a desert waste and drear. 
 
 And he'll joyfully make answer: 
 
 Drenching showers are drawing near. 
 
 Ask of Pessi his opinion 
 Of his neighbor. Uncle Si, 
 
 And he'll say. The man looks honest 
 But he's stealing on the sly. 
 
 Show to Opti some poor fellow 
 Whom the judge has sent to jail. 
 
 And he'll tell you. Were the truth out 
 It might be a different tale. 
 
 'Tis said both of these Mist brothers 
 Are quite chummy, chatty folks. 
 
 Though blue Pessi prates of horrors. 
 While bright Opti laughs and jokes. 
 
 You may choose for your companion 
 Mr. Pessi Mist, the glum — 
 
 But there's sense in your preferring 
 Mr. Opti Mist as chum. 
 
 — <S — 
 
MOST OF THE TIME. 
 
 Most of the time the mists are lifted; 
 
 Most of the time the skies are blue; 
 Down from above in floods is drifted 
 Most of the time an orient hue; 
 
 Hark to my rhyme: 
 Heaven is showering smiles on you. 
 Most of the time. 
 
 Most of the time the trees are singing 
 
 Psalmody sweet that softly swells; 
 Most of the time blithe birds are bringing 
 Jovial lays from sylvan dells; 
 
 Hark to my rhyme: 
 Earth a melodious story tells, 
 Most of the time. 
 
 Most of the time fair winds are blowang. 
 
 Freighted with perfumes manifold; 
 Most of the lime is greensward growing 
 Fattening flocks on hill and wold; 
 
 Mark you my rhyme: 
 Earth is engaged in garnering gold. 
 Most of the time. 
 
 Most of the time as evening darkens 
 
 Skies are aglow with beacons bright; 
 Most of the time whoever barkens 
 Catches the caroled song of night; 
 
 List to my rhyme: 
 Midnights are buoyant bowers of light 
 Most of the time. 
 
 A GROUCH SPECIFIC. 
 
 Ah, I see you have a grouch on, my dear friend! 
 
 And you do not dare gainsay it, 
 
 For your very looks betray it — 
 Like a hedgehog with its bristles all on end! 
 
 O, you say you're feeling badly? I believe you! 
 
 But, my friend, let me prescribe: 
 
 Take the dose that I describe. 
 And I warrant it will certainly relieve you. 
 
 Take a grain of "Grin-and-bear-it," double 
 strong ; 
 
 Let the grin be deep and wide. 
 
 Do not try one tooth to hide; 
 Let the bear-it be a bear-it good and long. 
 
 Add a grain of that rare drug, "I'm-feeling-fine! — 
 Feeling fine though thugs may smite me. 
 Feeling fine though germs may bite me. 
 
 Feeling fine, sir, if I starve or if I dine!" 
 
 Then throw in about an ounce of "How-are 
 -you,-sir?" 
 If you ask about another. 
 Then you find, somehow or other. 
 
 You no longer feel so awful bum and blue, sir. 
 
 And, when all of these you've swallowed, each 
 well shaken. 
 And you also start right soon 
 A-v/histling some familiar tune — 
 Then it's "Farewell, Mr. Grouch!" — or I'm 
 mistaken ! 
 
 
OUR OWN FOLKS. 
 
 Why save your smiles for dress parade, 
 
 When company come to tea — 
 When everyone is all arrayed 
 
 In fashion cap-a-pie? 
 Oh smile a little as you go. 
 
 And tell your choicest jokes 
 When, clad in tweed and cahco. 
 
 There's only just the folks! 
 
 Some are so very, very sweet 
 
 When visitors are by. 
 But chilly as a storm of sleet 
 
 When just their folks are nigh; 
 Oh be of true and solid worth 
 
 And not a hollow hoax — 
 Be sweetest when beside your hearth 
 
 There's only just the folks! 
 
 There is 'mong men a man, they say. 
 
 Who, strange as it may sound. 
 Is always cheerful, glad and gay 
 
 When but his folks are round; 
 Who, if sometimes he needs must be 
 
 Devoid of smiles and jokes, 
 'Tis other men his frowns shall see. 
 
 And not just his own folks. 
 
 Perhaps that man is not a king. 
 
 All clad in plumes and cloaks — 
 But what a gladness it would bring 
 
 To dwell among his folks; 
 And if I thought he'd take in me. 
 
 Oh how I'd plead and coax! — 
 For my crowned Prince of Men is he 
 
 Who's sweetest to his folks! 
 
 BABY'S SMILE. 
 
 Full hard his face; 
 
 Rough rivalry in bargains keen 
 For pelf and place, 
 
 Had made a man the mere machine 
 To grind and get of profits net 
 
 Enough to keep his balance clean; 
 To such a face a baby smiled: 
 The thing of iron became a child. 
 
 Full false her face; 
 
 The alchemy of fashion's wiles. 
 With rapid pace. 
 
 Transforming graces into guiles. 
 Made Beauty's tryst, once angel-kissed. 
 
 The sportive haunt of hollow smiles; 
 Yet lo, when baby laughed and cooed, 
 A soul from out that face was wooed. 
 
 So any face. 
 
 How marred or scarred by any ill. 
 How low or base. 
 
 To semblance of God's image will 
 Return again the instant when 
 
 Of baby's smile it drinks its fill. 
 For baby's smile is Love's device 
 To lure us back to Paradise. 
 
 — 10 — 
 
THE SONG OF THE TUB. 
 
 A SAIL ON SLUMBER SEA. 
 
 The Sloop of Sleep, with baby aboard. 
 
 Upon her cruise must go; 
 The sails are set, the anchor is weighed 
 
 And brisk the breezes blow. 
 
 Bye bye, my dearie, bye bye, bye bye — 
 
 And bhthe your voyage be! 
 For off you float in th' bonniest boat 
 
 That sails on Slumber Sea. 
 
 Full soon the shores of Wide-Awake Land 
 
 Will vanish from your view; 
 WTiile voices clear from Far-Away Isles 
 
 Will sweetly call to you. 
 
 Those fairy isles wdth wonderful scenes 
 Will greet your dreaming eye; 
 
 With smiling flowers and musical groves 
 Where brooks go laughing by. 
 
 There baby in a hammock of gold 
 
 Beneath the boughs will sway. 
 While trees and bees and zephyrs and bhds 
 
 Will hum a roundelay! 
 
 The swish of the scrubbing. 
 
 The rhythm of rubbing. 
 The music of making things clean. 
 
 Is poesy neater 
 
 And sentiment sweeter 
 Than brooklets that shimmer and sheen ! 
 
 For there is no knowing 
 
 A vision more glowing 
 Than suds so like hillocks of pearls; 
 
 And where is a humming 
 
 Such cadences summing 
 Of water that sings as it swirls! 
 
 As laundering surely 
 
 A mission hath purely 
 Of making Earth spotless and bright, 
 
 How clear and convincing 
 
 Are wringing and rinsing 
 Evangels of sweetness and light! 
 
 Like garments unsightly 
 
 111 conduct full rightly 
 Needs many a vigorous rub; 
 
 While deeds of the saintly 
 
 Resemble not faintly 
 The linen we lift from the tub! 
 
 Then, though it we weary, 
 
 O deem it not dreary — 
 For cherubim count it divine; 
 
 Yea, who may dare doubt it 
 
 When God is about it: 
 Preparing Life's robes for the line! 
 
 
EQUIPOSE. 
 
 RECIPROCITY. 
 
 Some go through life a-scurrying. 
 As if their souls were hurrying 
 
 To bid this world adieu; 
 They skip through things a-bustling. 
 And then they jump a-hustling 
 
 To find what next to do. 
 
 They get of life a smattering, 
 A fitful glimpse and scattering. 
 
 Who go with whir and whiz; 
 But those who go with equipoise. 
 With steady step and little noise, 
 
 Get all of life there is. 
 
 WTien God on High begins a tree. 
 He often takes a century 
 
 Ere half His task is done; 
 And yet we fain would build a life. 
 Mid all its stir and stress and strife, 
 
 Ere scarcely we've begun. 
 
 There's time enough for carefulness. 
 For thoroughness, for prayerfulness. 
 
 As on life's way we plod ; 
 We'll reach our goals quite soon enough 
 And reap from toil quite boon enough, 
 
 If we keep up with God. 
 
 Then let us cease our scurrying. 
 Our fluttering and flurrying. 
 
 And stay our frantic speed; 
 There's God to set the pace for us. 
 And Earth with ample space for us. 
 
 And all the time we need. 
 
 We serve each other, this great World and I. 
 How multitudinous its part, and mine 
 How small! Yet 'tis when tiny parts combine 
 
 We have a world — my part dare I deny? 
 
 My banquet board, from whence its lavish 
 weight? 
 A myriad toilers on the countryside. 
 From murky dawn to dusky eventide. 
 Have wrought and brought to me its luscious 
 freight. 
 
 My jaded tastes sharp condiments require; 
 Forthwith responds far India's swarthy son — 
 For me plucks pepper, cloves or cinnamon. 
 
 To charm my waiting palate's keen desire. 
 
 Attire I need, beseeming frost and heat; 
 
 Lo, shepherds haste to shear their cherished 
 flocks. 
 
 And cotton fields are stripped of snow^ locks. 
 Till thousands join to make my garb complete. 
 
 I beg for beauty: artists dream for me; 
 
 I crave for lore, and authors sweat their 
 brains ; 
 
 For music I beseech, and with what pains 
 Do tuneful souls pour forth their minstrelsy. 
 
 The World serves me, but am I serving it? 
 Lo, every law that cheers the universe 
 Would I with utter ingrate soul reverse. 
 
 If, served so well, myself serve not a bit! 
 
HIDDEN WORTH. 
 
 THE FACE WE WEAR. 
 
 'Tis well enough to wear such dress 
 
 As connoisseurs of clothes require; 
 'Tis finer still, we must confess, 
 
 To wear a face that folks admire. 
 For faces, more than cut of clothes. 
 
 Subtract or add to human peace — 
 Some seem to multiply our woes. 
 
 While others, bless you, bring release. 
 
 A face worth while may not be formed 
 
 In Roman or in Grecian style. 
 Yet, gazing on it, how are warmed 
 
 Our drear and drooping souls, the while! 
 Such face but seems a fountain free 
 
 From which some sweet elixir flows — 
 We drink its smile with thirsty glee 
 
 Until our inmost being glows. 
 
 From myriad shops our raiment fair 
 
 Has come but for the price we've paid; 
 But evermore the face we wear 
 
 Is every bit of it home-made. 
 Yet if our hearts, with strong desire. 
 
 On others' weal shall brightly smile, 
 We'll keep aflame love's lambent fire 
 
 And ever wear a face worth while. 
 
 Most folks are really fine, I vow, 
 If we might all their virtues toll. 
 
 And would for evils but allow 
 That native are to every soul — 
 
 We'd find how few, beneath the crust, 
 
 But have some trait that we might trust. 
 
 Just take that glum and surly man. 
 
 Who frowns upon you all the while — 
 You'd think he hated all his clan. 
 
 And nought on earth could make him smile- 
 Yet somev/here some poor soul forlorn 
 Might find him radiant as the morn. 
 
 Then take that miser mortal, now. 
 
 Who parts from coppers with a pang — 
 
 You'd think his mind and heart but bow 
 To music that his money sang — 
 
 Yet he his pennies may have prized 
 
 To bless the world unadvertised. 
 
 Take now some fellow steeped in crime. 
 And put him in your crucible — 
 
 You'd think to trace but guilt and grime 
 Through all that was reducible — 
 
 Yet you might find, before you're through, 
 
 Some milk of human kindness, too. 
 
 Then why not give the worst of men 
 
 The benefit of every doubt. 
 And trust that in some hidden glen 
 
 A fragrant flower is budding out — 
 That something really sweet and true 
 You'll find, if you but search him through. 
 
 
CHEER UP AND CHIRRUP. 
 
 Come, cheer up, friend, and chirrup! 
 
 Although the storm is on. 
 It chimes a thousand keynotes 
 
 By which to pitch a song — 
 Resounding in its raindrops 
 
 And in its thunder-gong! 
 
 Come, cheer up, friend, and chirrup! 
 
 Though darksome be the day. 
 There are a thousand carols 
 
 To brighten up the way — 
 Then join the jovial chorus 
 
 And charm the clouds away! 
 
 Come, cheer up, friend, and chirrup! Come, cheer up, friend, and chirrup! 
 
 The night may have no moon. Although you have no gold, 
 
 But a thousand stars are shining There are a thousand pennies 
 
 And dawn is coming soon — That down your way have rolled; 
 
 Then pucker up and warble There's music in your coppers — 
 
 A jolly, joyful tune! Then jingle all you hold! 
 
 Come, cheer up, friend, and chirrup! 
 
 Although old friends be far. 
 Behold a thousand new ones 
 
 A-smiling where you are — 
 Then cheer up, friend, and chirrup 
 
 A blithe and merry bar! 
 
 Come, cheer up, friend, and chirrup! 
 
 Forget your pangs and pains. 
 For there's a thousand chuckles 
 
 A-choking in your veins — 
 Let loose the laughing waters 
 
 Till not an ache remains! 
 
 — H- 
 
A SMILE. 
 
 THE SUNNY SOUL. 
 
 Fares never forth the sunny soul 
 
 To snatch a crown at cannon's mouth ; 
 From out his lips no thunders roll. 
 
 But gentle whispers from the south ; 
 He storms no heights with echoing tread. 
 
 But softly walks through valleys green; 
 His footprints ne'er with blood are red. 
 
 But in his steps fair flowers are seen. 
 
 But th' sunny soul is Earth's true knight. 
 
 On stressful fields of daily life: 
 He swings a gleaming sword of light 
 
 That cleaves the heart of hate and strife; 
 He bends love's mighty battle bow. 
 
 And speeds a smile so blithe and rare 
 It pierces thickest walls of woe 
 
 And slays the giants of despair. 
 
 O sunny king of kindly arts! — 
 
 To lime-light fame art thou unknown; 
 Yet in ten thousand weary hearts 
 
 Hast thou upreared a shining throne! 
 Come thou, and with thy genial face, 
 
 Thy cheery mien, thy courtesy. 
 Take in my heart thy princely place 
 
 And work in me thy witchery! 
 
 When on our face a smile breaks out, 
 That bubbles up from deep within. 
 
 It makes us look as if about 
 
 A score of years had never been; 
 
 It matters not how years may pile. 
 
 We're never older than our smile. 
 
 Your hair may be all snowy now. 
 
 Or scarcer than a biddy's teeth. 
 Yet, if you smile, upon your brow 
 
 Is resting youth's immortal wreath; 
 Though years may pass in long defile. 
 You're yet a youngster — if you smile. 
 
 If you would have folks deem you young. 
 Then get them guessing when you laugh; 
 
 They'll miss your place upon the rung 
 Of life's long ladder, more than half; 
 
 The brightest guessers are beguiled. 
 
 Who count your years when you have smiled. 
 
 1 hen toss aside your ancient look. 
 
 And spread bright youth o'er all your face. 
 Till not a single tiny nook 
 
 Of crabbed age shall bear a trace; 
 Throw off Methuselah awhile 
 And join the cherubs — with a smile. 
 
 A smile is more infectious far 
 Than measles, to the human face; 
 
 Then let us smile where'er we are 
 Till we inoculate the race; 
 
 And then a smile will be the style 
 
 That folks will follow all the while! 
 
 — 15 — 
 
WHEN I SEZ MY PRAYER. 
 
 When I sez my prayer at night, you bet 
 I never has had to stay awake yet — 
 
 For my Ma blows out the light. 
 And I just curls up all in a heap 
 And quick as a wink I'm fast asleep — 
 
 When I sez my prayer at night. 
 
 Sometimes I fergits to say my prayer. 
 And then I lays rollin' and tossin' there 
 
 Till way on into the night; 
 But when I remembers, and like a man 
 Jumps out and sez it fast as I can — 
 
 Then I goes to sleep all right. 
 
 And th' days when I'se been mean and tough, 
 Just "Now I lay me" ain't quite enough — 
 
 When I sez my prayer at night — 
 I must go right on and make a clean breast 
 Of my oneryness, or they ain't no rest 
 
 For this here kid that night! 
 
 And onct in a while when I gits gay 
 
 And mumbles my words, and don't half pray, 
 
 O, th' things I dreams is a fright! 
 But how God makes the goblins hike 
 When Him and me gits friendly-like — 
 
 When I sez my prayer at night! 
 
 WHEN WAR LOOKS WRONG. 
 
 I never fights with Johnny Jones, 
 
 Who lives across the way, 
 'Cause it's so wrong for boys to do 
 
 Like cats and dogs, they say: 
 There's another reason, on the side, 
 
 That's plain enough to see: 
 And that's because this Johnny Jones 
 
 Is a whole lot bigger'n me! 
 
 I'm not afraid of him, O no! 
 
 Why, when he told that lie 
 About me onct, at first I thought 
 
 I'd smash him in the eye — 
 But just in time I thought how wrong. 
 
 How very wrong 'twould be 
 For me to hit that boy — and how 
 
 He's a whole lot bigger'n me! 
 
 My daddy says that Uncle Sam 
 
 Should be the biggest boy 
 In this whole world, in ships and guns; 
 
 That no one would annoy 
 Him then — they'd all git awfully good 
 
 And call off every fuss, 
 'Cause war's so wrong, they'd say — and, then. 
 
 H€ 
 
 /hole lot bigger'n us! 
 
 76 — 
 
GOD AND PA. 
 
 God likes my Pa a lot, I know, 
 
 He's such a dandy chap! 
 If a feller makes a bit of noise 
 
 He doesn't care a rap. 
 And after supper, many a time. 
 
 My Pa he plays with me. 
 At marbles or at mumblypeg. 
 
 As lonsr as we can see. 
 
 Then, just before it gits quite dark. 
 
 He helps me do my chores; 
 And how we laugh, till folks come out 
 
 To listen to our roars! 
 God likes my Pa a heap, I know — 
 
 He's such a jolly lot; 
 Each time I say: "Let's have some fun!" 
 
 He's Johnny on the Spot! 
 
 When Sunday comes and Pa he says: 
 
 "Come, Tom, let's go to church," 
 You bet I go, for do you s'pose 
 
 I'd leave him in the lurch? 
 Not on your life! And when the men 
 
 That preach to us allow 
 That God on High is like my Pa, 
 
 That hits me hard, I vow! 
 
 Why, thinkin' God is like my Pa 
 
 Makes lumps come in my throat 
 At things I've done, till I calls myself 
 
 A mean and measly shoat! — 
 And swear I'll be more like my Pa 
 
 So God'll love me, too. 
 And I pray to Him, down in my heart: 
 
 "Say, God, just help me through!" 
 
 And He sure does! He's just like Pa — 
 He always comes to time. 
 
 And never gives a penny when 
 I need a silver dime! 
 
 God likes my Pa a lot, I know. 
 And I like God. you bet! 
 
 When I thinks of 'em — say, don't you tell- 
 Sometimes my eyes gits wet! 
 
 —17— 
 
THE ISLE OF TRUST. 
 
 Some, sailing far seas in search of heart's ease, 
 
 Are whelmed by tempests of doubt — 
 For illusions that lure can never endure 
 
 And highest of hopes must rout; 
 Cleave I to the shore, to challenge no more 
 
 The treacherous ocean gust — 
 For I've pitched my tent with a calm content 
 
 On the orient Isle of Trust, 
 
 What matters to me the mysterious sea 
 
 That around this Isle may roar; 
 Its stretches unknowTi that thunder and moan 
 
 Have I no call to explore; 
 Though it lash the beach it never can reach 
 
 My soul with its fevered lust, 
 \)('Tiile I keep my feet with contentment sweet 
 
 On the orient Isle of Trust. 
 
 Then why toss about on the waves of doubt 
 
 And venture o'er seas unknown. 
 When to dwell ashore is to question no more 
 
 What God provides for His own; 
 Ambrosial fare or a nectar rare 
 
 Doubt ne'er to my lips has thrust — 
 But sweet is my cup whenever I sup 
 
 With God on the Isle of Trust. 
 
 And this wondrous Isle is troubled the while 
 
 With never a winter's chill; 
 Ever green is its sod for the smile of God 
 
 Bathes every vale and hill; 
 And on every slope sweet flowers of hope 
 
 Spring bright from its genial dust — 
 As over its sward I walk with my Lord 
 
 On the orient Isle of Trust. 
 
 INASMUCH. 
 
 With courtesy I bend one morn 
 The heart of a rose to greet; 
 
 It pours its scented thanks on me, 
 With a glance demure and sweet. 
 
 For a rose's bloom is the smile of love 
 
 Answering back to smiles above. 
 
 With tenderness I stoop one day 
 The heart of a child to cheer — 
 
 And lo, I stand in Paradise 
 Where scenes of joy appear! 
 
 For Heaven is hid in eyes of blue 
 
 WTien a happy child has smiled on you. 
 
 With gentleness I bow one night 
 To soothe a suffering brow — 
 
 WTien lo, I glimpse in the invalid's face 
 The face of Another, now! 
 
 For healing the hurt of affliction's rod 
 
 Unveils the smile on the face of God ! 
 
 — 18- 
 
TO ONE SHUT IN. 
 
 BETTER STILL. 
 
 When plans fall futile to the earth, 
 Though scarce have they been given birth; 
 When cherished hopes all but fulfilled 
 Sink in the sand as waters spilled; 
 A man may frown if he but will. 
 Yet, if he smile, 'twere better still. 
 
 When those to whom we lend a lift 
 Leave us the best we may to shift; 
 When friends who hold in hand our heart 
 Impale it with envenomed dart; 
 A man may frown if he but will. 
 Yet, if he smile, 'twere better still. 
 
 When words as bitter as the gall 
 Are said of us, not true at all ; 
 When calumnies are borne abroad. 
 Believed by all who hear, save God; 
 A man may frown if he but will. 
 Yet, if he smile, 'twere better still. 
 
 They who may frown, yet dare to smile. 
 Their own despair illume the while. 
 And through the gloom of others' night 
 Sweep rays of sweet, unwonted light ; 
 A man may frown if he but will, 
 Yet, if he smile, 'twere better still. 
 
 Be brave, dear heart, be brave! 
 Thus only to behave 
 
 Becomes thy powers; 
 Swift rolling years do not 
 From recollection blot 
 
 Triumphant hours. 
 
 In those fair former days 
 God's will to thee meant praise 
 
 And happiness; 
 Is His will other now 
 When on thy wiser brow 
 
 Pain's fingers press? 
 
 Lo, He whose wondrous grace 
 Can make life's commonplace 
 
 A palace gate. 
 Can turn deep grief to gain 
 And out of keenest pain 
 
 New joy create. 
 
 Though He forbid thy feet 
 To tread the lawn and street 
 
 Or roam the beach; 
 Is not shut out the din. 
 And He with thee shut in 
 
 For aye in reach ? 
 
 Be brave, dear heart, be brave! 
 Love's chance were missing save 
 
 Such need were thine; 
 Now Love beside thee stands 
 To give dear human hands 
 
 A task divine. 
 
 —19- 
 
UNFURL THE FLAG. 
 
 Unfurl the Flagl At dawn, when fle.eing Night 
 
 Flings farewell kisses to the rising Sun, 
 Be our iirst vision fair those folds so bright 
 
 'Neath which so wide hath Freedom's reign begun! 
 And when departing Day o'ersp reads the sky 
 
 With glory tints no human brush may match. 
 Let still our Flag with these fair splendors vie. 
 
 The last bright thing our straining gaze shall catch! 
 
 Unfurl the Flag! Where Winter's snowy flakes 
 
 The frigid Earth o'er-mantles with thick down. 
 Fling there the Flag across the ice-locked lakes 
 
 And sweep its glories o'er each white-robed town! 
 Yea, where sweet summer smiles the whole year round. 
 
 And Earth's green lap is filled for aye with flowers. 
 Let there the Flag on scented breeze rebound. 
 
 The fitting type of blithesome birds and bowers! 
 
 Unfurl the Flag! While Peace, with folded wing. 
 
 Abides oblivious of the shout of foes. 
 Let float our nag and with us laugh and sing. 
 
 The happy symbol of our calm repose; ^ 
 But when dread War now fills us with alarms 
 
 Till startled Peace is forced to wing her flight, 
 'Tis sight sublime, amid the din of arms. 
 
 To see our Flag lead forth a nation's might! 
 
 Unfurl the Flag, where our loved fathers fought 
 
 And fixed the borders of our vast domain; 
 Unfurl the Flag, where our brave sons have wrought 
 
 And wrested isles from tyranny's sad bane; 
 Unfurl the Flag, where despots yet essay 
 
 To crush the hopes of lands across the sea; 
 Flash there its folds till lands reclaimed shall say: 
 
 All hail the Flag that made the whole World free! 
 
 — 20 — 
 
JUST LIVE TO GIVE. 
 
 GOD'S GARDEN. 
 
 My garden plot is a human lot 
 
 Fenced in with homely care and toil; 
 
 When there the while I sow a smile 
 
 What a sweetness springs from its crimson soil! 
 
 No spot so bare but blossoms rare 
 
 Will leap from its heart if I sow the seed; 
 
 And Time is small to reap it all: 
 The harvest fair of a kindly deed. 
 
 God's garden space is a human race, 
 
 Too vast for me to till and trim; 
 But if you, O friend, a smile will lend, 
 
 Ri^ht soon will a World with bloom o'er-brim! 
 
 O give because to you 'tis life to give — 
 As sunbeams give the day; 
 As roses perfume yield; 
 As sea-waves fling their spray; 
 As grasses robe the field; 
 As, save to give, they have no call to live! 
 
 O never give that you in turn may get — 
 Your gold, to gold attain; 
 
 Your smile, a smile to hire; 
 Your lift, to lift regain; 
 
 Your love, to love require; 
 Just live to give and all rewards forget! 
 
 Live but to give and you shall have your due 
 Some hand will gold repay; 
 
 Some face on you will smile; 
 Some love will light your way; 
 Some friend your woe beguile; 
 God underwrites each debt of love to you! 
 
 21- 
 
GOLDSWOirTHT SROi., PtINTlTO, DAIU». 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 018 395 502