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THE ONE IN TEN
NINE passed him by with a hasty look,
Each bent on his eager way;
One glance at him was the most they took,
“Somebody stuck,” said they;
But it never occurred to the nine to heed
A stranger s plight and a stranger s need.
The tenth man looked at the stranded car,
And he promptly stopped his own.
“Let s see if I know what your troubles are,”
Said he in a cheerful tone;
“Just stuck in the mire. Here s a cable stout,
Hitch onto my bus and I ll pull you out.”
“A thousand thanks,” said the stranger then,
“For the debt that I owe you;
I ve counted them all and you re one in ten
Such a kindly deed to do.”
And the tenth man smiled and he answered then,
“Make sure that you ll be the one in ten.”
Are you one of the nine who pass men by
In this hasty life we live?
Do you refuse with a downcast eye
The help which you could give?
Or are you the one in ten whose creed
Is always to stop for the man in need?
A WARM HOUSE
AND A RUDDY FIRE
A WARM house and a ruddy fire,
To what more can man aspire?
Eyes that shine with love aglow,
Is there more for man to know?
Whether home be rich or poor,
If contentment mark the door
He who finds it good to live
Has the best that life can give.
This the end of mortal strife!
Peace at night to sweeten life,
Rest when mind and body tire,
At contentment s ruddy fire.
Rooms where merry songs are sung,
Happy old and glorious young;
These, if perfect peace be known,
Both the rich and poor must own.
A warm house and a ruddy fire,
These the goals of all desire,
These the dream of every man
Since God spoke and life began.
LIVING
THE MISER thinks he s living when he s hoarding up his
gold;
The soldier calls it living when he s doing something
bold;
The sailor thinks it living to be tossed upon the sea,
And upon this very subject no two men of us agree.
But I hold to the opinion, as I walk my way along,
That living s made of laughter and good-fellowship
and song.
I wouldn t call it living to be always seeking gold,
To bank all the present gladness for the days when
I ll be old.
I wouldn t call it living to spend all my strength for
fame,
And forego the many pleasures which to-day are mine
to claim.
I wouldn t for the splendor of the world set out to
roam,
And forsake my laughing children and the peace I
know at home.
Oh, the thing that I call living isn t gold or fame at
all!
It s fellowship and sunshine, and it s roses by the
wall.
It s evenings glad with music and a hearth-fire that s
ablaze,
“Living
From a painting by FRANK X. L E Y E N D E c K E R.
And the joys which come to mortals in a thousand
different ways.
It is laughter and contentment and the struggle for a
goal;
It is everything that s needful in the shaping of a
soul.