How purposeless the strife would be
  If there were nothing more,
If there were not a plan to serve,
  An end to struggle for! 
No reason for a mortal’s birth
  Except to have him die—­
How silly all the goals would seem
  For which men bravely try.

There must be something after death;
  Behind the toil of man
There must exist a God divine
  Who’s working out a plan;
And this brief journey that we know
  As life must really be
The gateway to a finer world
  That some day we shall see.

A Christmas Carol

God bless you all this Christmas Day
And drive the cares and griefs away. 
Oh, may the shining Bethlehem star
Which led the wise men from afar
Upon your heads, good sirs, still glow
To light the path that ye should go.

As God once blessed the stable grim
And made it radiant for Him;
As it was fit to shield His Son,
May thy roof be a holy one;
May all who come this house to share
Rest sweetly in His gracious care.

Within thy walls may peace abide,
The peace for which the Savior died. 
Though humble be the rafters here,
Above them may the stars shine clear,
And in this home thou lovest well
May excellence of spirit dwell.

God bless you all this Christmas Day;
May Bethlehem’s star still light thy way
And guide thee to the perfect peace
When every fear and doubt shall cease. 
And may thy home such glory know
As did the stable long ago.

Forgotten Boyhood

He wears a long and solemn face
And drives the children from his place;
He doesn’t like to hear them shout
Or race and run and romp about,
And if they chance to climb his tree,
He is as ugly as can be. 
If in his yard they drive a ball,
Which near his pretty flowers should fall,
He hides the leather sphere away,
Thus hoping to prevent their play.

The youngsters worry him a lot,
This sorry man who has forgot
That once upon a time, he too
The self-same mischief used to do. 
The boyhood he has left behind
Has strangely vanished from his mind,
And he is old and gray and cross
For having suffered such a loss. 
He thinks he never had the joy
That is the birthright of a boy.

He has forgotten how he ran,
Or to a dog’s tail tied a can,
Broke window panes, and loved to swipe
Some neighbor’s apples, red and ripe—­
He thinks that always, day or night,
His conduct was exactly right. 
In boys to-day he cannot see
The youngster that he used to be,
Forgotten is that by-gone day,
When he was mischievous as they.

Poor man!  I’m sorry for your lot. 
The best of life you have forgot. 
Could you remember what you were,
Unharnessed and untouched by spur,
These youngsters that you drive away
Would be your comrades here to-day. 
Among them you could gayly walk
And share their laughter and their talk;
You could be young and blithe as they,
Could you recall your yesterday.