It Can Be Done Part 15

When a man who had been in the penitentiary applied to Henry Ford for employment, he started to tell Mr. Ford his story. "Never mind," said Mr. Ford, "I don't care about the past. Start where you stand!"--Author's note.

Start where you stand and never mind the past, The past won't help you in beginning new, If you have left it all behind at last Why, that's enough, you're done with it, you're through; This is another chapter in the book, This is another race that you have planned, Don't give the vanished days a backward look, Start where you stand.

The world won't care about your old defeats If you can start anew and win success, The future is your time, and time is fleet And there is much of work and strain and stress; Forget the buried woes and dead despairs, Here is a brand new trial right at hand, The future is for him who does and dares, Start where you stand.

Old failures will not halt, old triumphs aid, To-day's the thing, to-morrow soon will be; Get in the fight and face it unafraid, And leave the past to ancient history; What has been, has been; yesterday is dead And by it you are neither blessed nor banned, Take courage, man, be brave and drive ahead, Start where you stand.

_Berton Braley._

From "A Banjo at Armageddon."

A HOPEFUL BROTHER

A Cripple Creek miner remarked that he had hunted for gold for twenty-five years. He was asked how much he had found. "None," he replied, "but the prospects are good."

Ef you ask him, day or night, When the worl' warn't runnin' right, "Anything that's good in sight?"

This is allus what he'd say, In his uncomplainin' way-- "Well, I'm hopin'."

When the winter days waz nigh, An' the clouds froze in the sky, Never sot him down to sigh, But, still singin' on his way, He'd stop long enough to say-- "Well, I'm hopin'."

Dyin', asked of him that night (Sperrit waitin' fer its flight), "Brother, air yer prospec's bright?"

An'--last words they heard him say, In the ol', sweet, cheerful way-- "Well, I'm hopin'."

_Frank L. Stanton._

"The Atlanta Const.i.tution."

A SONG OF THANKSGIVING

We should have grateful spirits, not merely for personal benefits, but also for the right to sympathize, to understand, to help, to trust, to struggle, to aspire.

Thank G.o.d I can rejoice In human things--the mult.i.tude's glad voice, The street's warm surge beneath the city light, The rush of hurrying faces on my sight, The million-celled emotion in the press That would their human fellows.h.i.+p confess.

Thank Thee because I may my brother feed, That Thou hast opened me unto his need, Kept me from being callous, cold and blind, Taught me the melody of being kind.

Thus, for my own and for my brother's sake-- Thank Thee I am awake!

Thank Thee that I can trust!

That though a thousand times I feel the thrust Of faith betrayed, I still have faith in man, Believe him pure and good since time began-- Thy child forever, though he may forget The perfect mould in which his soul was set.

Thank Thee that when love dies, fresh love springs up.

New wonders pour from Heaven's cup.

Young to my soul the ancient need returns, Immortal in my heart the ardor burns; My altar fires replenished from above-- Thank Thee that I can love!

Thank Thee that I can hear, Finely and keenly with the inner ear, Below the rush and clamor of a throng The mighty music of the under-song.

And when the day has journeyed to its rest, Lo, as I listen, from the amber west, Where the great organ lifts its glowing spires, There sounds the chanting of the unseen choirs.

Thank Thee for sight that shows the hidden flame Beneath all breathing, throbbing things the same, Thy Pulse the pattern of the thing to be....

Thank Thee that I can see!

Thank Thee that I can feel!

That though life's blade be terrible as steel, My soul is stript and naked to the fang, I crave the stab of beauty and the pang.

_To be alive, To think, to yearn, to strive,_ To suffer torture when the goal is wrong, To be sent back and fas.h.i.+oned strong Rejoicing in the lesson that was taught By all the good the grim experience wrought; At last, exulting, to _arrive_....

Thank G.o.d I am alive!

_Angela Morgan._

From "The Hour Has Struck."

LOSE THE DAY LOITERING

Anything is hard to begin, whether it be taking a cold bath, writing a letter, clearing up a misunderstanding, or falling to on the day's work.

Yet "a thing begun is half done." No matter how unpleasant a thing is to do, begin it and immediately it becomes less unpleasant. Form the excellent habit of making a start.

Lose the day loitering, 'twill be the same story To-morrow, and the next more dilatory, For indecision brings its own delays, And days are lost lamenting o'er lost days.

Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute!

What you can do, or think you can, begin it!

Only engage, and then the mind grows heated; Begin it, and the work will be completed.

_Johann Wolfgang von Goethe._

PLAYING THE GAME

We don't like the man who whines that the cards were stacked against him or that the umpire cheated. We admire the chap who, when he must take his medicine, takes it cheerfully, bravely. To play the game steadily is a merit, whether the game be a straight one or crooked. A thoroughbred, even though bad, has more of our respect than the craven who cleaves to the proprieties solely from fear to violate them. It has well been said: "The mistakes which make us men are better than the accuracies that keep us children."

Yes, he went an' stole our steers, So, of course, he had to die; I ain't sheddin' any tears, But, when I cash in--say, I Want to take it like that guy-- Laughin', jokin', with the rest, Not a whimper, not a cry, Standin' up to meet the test Till we swung him clear an' high, With his face turned toward the west!