HE liveth long who liveth well," 

  So ran the legend terse and old; 

To keep the truth in mind were well, 

For truth is better kept than gold.

The one will perish in an hour;

One never dies, but bright and pure 

As Heaven itself, when earthly power

Has passed, forever shall endure.

Not by the years of life is told 

The length of life, but by the zeal

And kindly works, as, growing old, 

Men for each other do and feel.

His life is long whose work is well;

And be his station low or high, 

He who the most good works can tell,

Lives longest though he soonest die.

Then, as the sweet-winged moments speed, 

Freight them with wealth of truth and worth

With garnered sheaves of thought and deed 

For the glad harvest home on earth.

Within the rankling breast of Hate, 

In desert ways where no flowers bloom,

In scenes where Folly sits in state, 

In wan-faced Sorrow's house of gloom,

Sow love, and taste its fruitage sweet;

Sow smiles and see the desert spring; 

Sow wisdom for the harvest meet;

Sow sunshine for the joy 'twill bring.


TONIGHT before you fall asleep, 

Let each and every one

Look back and see if he can find 

Some good deed that he's done.