He chose to do his stint by deed—
Not words but action was his creed;
When at his door some need would knock,
He gave—and wasted little talk.
He never had too big a load
To ease the traveller on the road;
His hearth was warm—so was his bed
And no one left his house unfed.
He did not gossip—if he talked
’Twas well advised—he never knocked;
He never knocked nor did he raise
At any time his voice in praise;
The little gracious things folks say,
He left them out—it was his way.
He left so many out that they
Who shared his roof from day to day,
Went hungering in their souls the while
For just a pleasant word or smile.
It was as if he’d gone and made
A covenant with God to aid
His fellowman—so far as he
Could help that man materially;
But as for giving from his store
Those gifts the heart keeps longing for—
And lacking which goes beggaring—
Well that was quite another thing.
Somehow I think that such an one
Leaves half his task in life undone.