If thou hast the gift of strength, then know Thy part is to uplift the trodden low; Else, in the giant's grasp, until the end A hopeless wrestler shall thy soul contend. --George Meredith. The best men doing their best Know, peradventure, least of what they do. Men usefullest i' the world are simply used. --Elizabeth Barrett Browning. New words to speak, new thoughts to hear, New love to give and take; Perchance new burdens I may bear To-day for love's sweet sake. He doth good work whose heart can find The spirit 'neath the letter; Who makes his kind of happier mind, Leaves wiser men and better. Work for some good, be it ever so slowly, Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly, Labor--all labor is noble and holy. --Frances Sargent Osgood. In silence mend what ills deform the mind; But all thy good impart to all thy kind. --John Sterling. God gave me something very sweet to be mine own this day: A precious opportunity a word for Christ to say. That best portion of a good man's life-- His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love. --William Wordsworth. Wouldst thou go forth to bless, be sure of thine own ground, Fix well thy center first, then draw thy circle round. --Richard Chenevix Trench. BROTHERHOOD CHARITY, SYMPATHY, EXAMPLE, INFLUENCE THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD There are hermit souls that live withdrawn In the peace of their self-content; There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart In a fellowless firmament; There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths Where highways never ran-- But let me live by the side of the road And be a friend to man. Let me live in a house by the side of the road, Where the race of men go by-- The men who are good and the men who are bad, As good and as bad as I. I would not sit in the scorner's seat, Or hurl the cynic's ban-- Let me live in a house by the side of the road, And be a friend to man. I see from my house by the side of the road, By the side of the highway of life, The men who press with the ardor of hope The men who are faint with the strife. But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-- Both parts of an infinite plan-- Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man. I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead And mountains of wearisome height; And the road passes on through the long afternoon And stretches away to the night. But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice, And weep with the strangers that moan, Nor live in my house by the side of the road Like a man who dwells alone.