Just to bring to those who need
The little word of cheer;
Just to lift the drooping head
And check the falling tear;
Just to smooth a furrow from
A tired brow a while;
Just to help dispel a cloud,
Just to bring a smile--
Oh, the kindly little deeds,
As on through life we go,
How they bring the sunshine,
Only those who do them know.
Just to do the best we can,
As o'er life's path each day,
With other pilgrims homeward bound,
We take our steady way;
Just to give a helping hand
Some weary weight to bear,
And lend a heart of sympathy
Some neighbour's grief to share--
Oh, those kindly little deeds,
Our dear Lord notes each one,
And sheds His blessings o'er our way
Toward life's setting sun.
*VI*
*IMPURITY*
Once in California I visited the beautiful gardens of San Francisco and
saw a very lovely flower.
Its petals were white, and when you opened up the heart, away down at
the very centre was a shape made by the base of the pistil that looked
exactly like a dove. It was a flower with a white dove at its heart.
They called it the Holy Ghost plant of South America.
It is a fine thing when a girl or boy carries within them a white heart!
There is no sin that leaves a worse stain than the sin of impurity.
It comes by unclean thoughts and words and deeds; and when it comes, it
is next to impossible to wash it out.
A man once looked at a dirty picture, and years after he had not
forgotten it! It made for him a lifelong fight!
It is almost like putting nails in a post. You may draw them out, but
you can never quite fill out the holes left. A growing tree may fill
them and a growing life may, but there is always a scar left where the
nail entered.
Some boys like to tell nasty stories, and if the boys to whom I talk
want to have white souls they should turn from nasty story-tellers the
way they would from drinking poison.
It is awful the way a dirty story sticks. It is so hard to get rid of
its memory. It is like indelible ink that you use when you want some
writing not to wear out.
The great General Grant, the United States hero of the Civil War, was
once at a party where one of those men were who think it smart to tell
such stories. Looking around, the man said, "I have a story to tell
you. There are no ladies present, are there?" "No," said Grant, "but
there are some gentlemen."
That story was never told.
Dear girls and boys, when any evil breath like that is around, think of
your dear mother or your beautiful sister, and tell your heart you must
be true to them.
"I must be true, for there are those who love me,
I must be pure, for there are those who care."
A newspaper published these verses that I think are so good. I would
like you to learn them.
While walking through a crowded down-town street the other day,
I heard a little urchin to his comrade turn and say:
"Say, Jimmy, let me tell youse, I'd be happy as a clam
If I only was de feller dat me mudder t'inks I am.
She just t'inks dat I'm a wonder, and she knows her little lad
Could never mix wid nothin' dat was ugly, mean or bad.
Lots er times I sits and t'inks how nice 'twould be, gee whiz,
If a feller was de feller dat his mudder t'inks he is!"
My friends, be yours a life of toil or undiluted joy,
You still can learn a lesson from this small unlettered boy.
Don't aim to be an earthly saint with eyes fixed on a star;
Just try to be the fellow that your mother thinks you are.
And how can we keep the life straight, and in a true direction?
You remember the story of Ulysses and the Sirens--how he kept himself
and his sailors from the influence of the enticing music when the sirens
played on the dangerous rocks, by filling their ears with wax; and
having himself tied to the mast till they passed in safety.
That is one way--the way of stiff stern duty and obedience to law. But
there is a better way!
A boy once was trying to make a straight track in the snow. And he did.
While the other boys left wriggling marks, his pressed straight on. When
they asked him how he did it, he said he fixed his eye on a tree on the
other side of the field and walked to the tree without looking to right
or left. That is the way always to make a straight trail. Look at
something ahead and go to it.
And we have that chance, for this is a splendid text for a girl or boy,
or man or woman--"Run with patience the race set before us, looking unto
Jesus."
The eye fixed on Him and the feet moving toward Him will help make a
straight life.
*VII*
*"I CAN'T"*
No girl or boy ever says this about anything they love to do!
No matter how hard it is, if they like it, they try at least to do it.
In fact, the harder it is, the more they try.
Who ever cares how many bumps he gets when learning to skate?
I saw a fellow once who was trying to vault over a pole. His chums
laughed and jeered. "You can't!" they called out. Do you suppose he
stopped? No! He kept right at it until he did.
Edison, the wizard of electricity, wanted to get a jewel point hard
enough to be the right kind of an end for a phonograph needle. When it
was suggested he could not get one, he just looked at the one who said
it, and went right on and found it!
Every girl and boy should be like the man who refused to let that word
appear in his dictionary.
When I was a little boy, I was brought up in a church where they would
not sing anything but psalms. They called all others "man-made hymns"
and one member of the church had sewed up all the paraphrases at the
back for fear he might open them by mistake. That was a very foolish,
narrow way to act; but if you have anywhere in your book of life the
words, "I can't!" just sew those leaves together so you will never see
them!
For you can--if you will, and if you want to!
And if you can't, it is only because you won't!
I do not know who wrote these verses and will apologize for using them,
but would like to pass them on to girls and boys: