NOT all that is high is holy; 

Not all that is sweet is good; 

Not every desire 

Toward which we aspire 

Pleases our God as it should.

Sometimes the joy that we covet 

Is not a joy when possessed; 

And to labor right on 

Till our duties are done 

Is better, far better, than rest.

He who by pride is exalted, 

He who as monarch is known, 

Less honored may be 

By the Master, than he 

Who stands at the foot of the throne.

For better is it to be humble, 

To serve in the lowliest place,

To labor and plod

With the veriest clod, 

Than the likeness of God to efface.

For the soul, like a delicate needle, 

Will move as desire has swerved,

And point at the last,  

 When Death holds us fast, 

To the one we've most faithfully served.