It matters little where I was born, Or if my parents were rich or poor; Whether they shrunk at the cold world's scorn, Or walked in the pride of wealth secure. But whether I live an honest man And hold my integrity firm in my clutch I tell you, brother, as plain as I can, It matters much. It matters little how long I stay In a world of sorrow, sin, and care; Whether in youth I am called away Or live till my bones and pate are bare. But whether I do the best I can To soften the weight of Adversity's touch On the faded cheek of my fellow man, It matters much. It matters little where be my grave-- Or on the land or in the sea, By purling brook or 'neath stormy wave, It matters little or naught to me; But whether the Angel Death comes down, And marks my brow with his loving touch, As one that shall wear the victor's crown, It matters much. --Noah Barker. For I am 'ware it is the seed of act God holds appraising in his hollow palm, Not act grown great thence in the world below; Leafage and branchage vulgar eyes admire. --Robert Browning. OBSCURE MARTYRS "The world knows nothing of its greatest men." They have no place in storied page; No rest in marble shrine; They are past and gone with a perished age, They died and "made no sign." But work that shall find its wages yet, And deeds that their God did not forget, Done for their love divine-- These were their mourners, and these shall be The crowns of their immortality. O, seek them not where sleep the dead, Ye shall not find their trace; No graven stone is at their head, No green grass hides their face; But sad and unseen is their silent grave; It may be the sand or the deep sea wave, Or a lonely desert place; For they needed no prayers and no mourning-bell-- They were tombed in true hearts that knew them well. They healed sick hearts till theirs were broken, And dried sad eyes till theirs lost light; We shall know at last by a certain token How they fought and fell in the fight. Salt tears of sorrow unbeheld, Passionate cries unchronicled, And silent strifes for the right-- Angels shall count them, and earth shall sigh That she left her best children to battle and die. --Edwin Arnold. THY BEST Before God's footstool to confess A poor soul knelt and bowed his head. "I failed," he wailed. The Master said, "Thou did'st thy best--that is success." --Henry Coyle. Aspire, break bounds, I say; Endeavor to be good and better still, And best! Success is naught, endeavor's all. --Robert Browning. FAILURE