THE GREAT SAGE
Toiling — rejoicing — sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees its close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou past taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of our life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought!