Chapter I: WALKED by sight along the sunlit way,

Through pleasant fields and where the flow’rs were fair. By quiet streams, through restful vales it lay, And loveliness and joy were everywhere. I walked by sight, so confident my soul, Nor dreamed that it would ever diff’rent be, As I moved onward to the shining goal That through the distance seemed so clear to me.

But lo, there came the hour when dusk increased, And sunset slowly faded into night, As hour by hour the strength of vision ceased, And I no more could make my way by sight. But when the day had failed to shadows dim, Without a star to lend a flickering ray, I took God’s hand and travelled on with Him, And sudden glory flooded all my way.

Starting Things (1927)

THE ghost of Father Gutenberg Came back upon a visit. He saw a modern printing press, And cried, “Good sakes, what is it?” He saw a linotype at work On endless composition, And said, “It must be that my mind Is not in good condition.”

He heard the newsboys hawk their wares, And saw the bookstores busy, Found magazines on every stand Until it made him dizzy. He said, “Whoever could have thought All this I was imparting? One never guesses, after all, How much he may be starting.”

Success (1927)

SUCCESS is not the garnering of gold Wrung from the failing grasp of nerveless hands, Nor grim advantage where are bought and sold The cargoes of the fleets from distant lands. It is not deafness to the anguished cry Of blighting poverty or bitter need, Nor a triumphal march to victory Over pale lips and human hearts that bleed.

Success is living to the full each hour, Finding the richness of the joy it brings, Leaving unheard no song, unseen no flower, Unfelt no throbbing loveliness of things. Success is soothing human hearts that ache Breathing new hope into despairing ears, Serving with willing hands for love’s dear sake, And sowing happiness across the years.

Thanksgiving v1927

In all the pleasure, care, and stress Of daily human living, Preserve us from forgetfulness, Blindness to heaven’s faithfulness, And failure in thanksgiving; Deliver us from every mood That savors of ingratitude. It is so easy to forget The tempests that have swept us, The barriers that we have met, How much we are in heaven’s debt, The goodness that has kept us. However far we be from good, Preserve us from ingratitude.

The Bantams (1928)

We have got a bantam rooster with a funny little face, And he tells us by his swagger that he thinks he owns the place. He will lord it o’er the chickens with a mien and manner high, And the strangest thing about it is he generally gets by. We have Brahams, Rocks, and Cochins--big and strong and robust, all; But they let this bantam run the place because he has the gall. Big and lazy and good-natured, they seek out a shady spot, Nor dispute the bold assumption of his right to rule the lot.

And sometimes I think the whole world is a barnyard, wide and vast. With the selfsame situation, as the ages hurry past. People big and strong and able take the smooth and easy way, While the fussy little fellows feather in and win the day. Singular, at least, I call it that so oft the crown is worn. By some self-elected demagogue, so oft the scepter borne, Not by some one with the vision a commanding swath to cut, But some cocky little bantam who was born to preen and strut.

Charge Account (1928)

YOU may think you are getting by. You may get by awhile. But do not snap your fingers in the face of Fate and smile. Although she may not now demand of you the full amount, Some day you will discover that she keeps a charge account.

She never quarrels with us nor bestows unseemly looks, But no one ever yet has found an error in her books. She writes down every item very quietly, but still There certainly will come a day when she presents her bill.

She asks no more than is her due, for Fate is always square. No tradesman yet in all the world has ever been more fair. Good business methods, that is all. There is no other way. You may get by awhile, my friend, but some day you will pay.

The Close-Up (1928)

_There are many angel faces, Viewed from places far away, Which, upon a near vision, Very quickly turn to clay. There are many matchless heroes Who can hold us in their spell, But who fade away to weakness When we really know them well.

There are many hissing villians Who, on closer view, are found To possess a kindly spirit And an honor quite profound. So it runs throughout the picture, As it probably is best, That the close-up tells the story Whether one can meet the test_.

Coming and Going (1928)