XV.
Words--words--and pen and ink,
But not a thought to think!
And yet, perhaps, perchance,
Who knows his ignorance
Is not the greatest fool,
Although long out of school.
XVI.
Our greatest glory, friend,
Is chiefly found herein--
That when we fall, offend,
We quickly rise from sin,
And make the very shame,
Which gathered round our name
Like many scorpion rings,
The stairs to better things
In that high citadel
Which has a warning bell.
XVII.
Whence honor, wealth, or fame,
Which God delights to see?
Out of a blameless name,
Born of Eternity.
And these are prizes
At God's assizes,
Reported day by day,
Which no man takes away.
XVIII.
Life is movement, action,
Joy, and benefaction.
Rest is bravely doing,
While the past reviewing,
Still the years forecasting
With the Everlasting.
Such be days of thine,
Such thy rest divine.
XIX.
The brook's joy
Does not cloy.
Too much sun,
Too much rain;
Work is done
Not in vain.
Sun receives
And cloud leaves
Just enough.
Skies are black
And winds rough,
Yet no lack
Of good will;
For 'tis still
Understood
God is good.
XX.
The brook's rest
Is rest indeed;
The brook's quest
Is daily need.
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