The real tragedy is the tragedy of a man who never in his life braces himself for his one supreme effort, who never stretches to his full capacity, never stands up to his full stature. To lie down and moan and whine about limited opportunities is the part of weaklings. To grasp the opportunities at hand and walk forward is the way of the strong.

With eager heart and will on fire, 

I fought to win my great desire; 

"Peace shall be mine,'* I said; but life 

Grew bitter in the weary strife. 



My soul was tired, and my pride 

Was wounded deep; to Heaven I cried, 

"God grant me peace or I must die"; 

The dumb stars glittered no reply. 



Broken at last, I bowed my head. 

Forgetting all myself, and said, 

"Whatever comes. His will be done"; 

And in that moment peace was won. 

I might wish the world were better,

  I might sit around and sigh

For a water that is wetter

  And a bluer sort of sky.

There are times I think the weather

  Could be much improved upon,

But when taken altogether

  It's a good old world we're on.

I might tell how I would make it,

  But when I have had my say

It is still my job to take it

  As it is, from day to day.



I might wish that men were kinder,

  And less eager after gold;

I might wish that they were blinder

  To the faults they now behold.

And I'd try to make them gentle,

  And more tolerant in strife

And a bit more sentimental

  O'er the finer things of life.

But I am not here to make them,

  Or to work in human clay;

It is just my work to take them

  As they are from day to day.



Here's a world that suffers sorrow,

  Here are bitterness and pain,

And the joy we plan to-morrow

  May be ruined by the rain.

Here are hate and greed and badness,

  Here are love and friendship, too,

But the most of it is gladness

  When at last we've run it through.

Could we only understand it

  As we shall some distant day

We should see that He who planned it

  Knew our needs along the way.

Strive not to be a success, but rather to be of value.

Great works are performed, not by strength but by perserverance.

There is a guiding hand above all things. Often when things happen, it’s not by accident. One day, when we look back at the seeming coincidences of our lives, we will realize that perhaps they weren’t so coincidental after all.

He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater, 
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase; 
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy, 
To multiplied trials He multiplies peace. 

When we have exhausted our store of endurance, 
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done, 
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources 
Our Father's full giving is only begun. 

His love has not limits, His grace has no measure, 
His power no boundary known unto men; 
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus 
He giveth, and giveth and giveth again.