Can you sing a song at the close of the day,
  When weary and tired, the work’s put away,
  With the joy that it’s done the best of the pay,
    Can you sing a song?

Joseph Morris.

KNOW THYSELF

It seems impossible that human beings could endure so much until we realize that they have endured it.  The spirit of man performs miracles; it transcends the limitations of flesh and blood.  It is like Uncle Remus’s account of Brer Rabbit climbing a tree.  “A rabbit couldn’t do that,” the little boy protested.  “He did,” Uncle Remus responded; “he was jes’ ’bleeged to.”

  Reined by an unseen tyrant’s hand,
  Spurred by an unseen tyrant’s will,
  Aquiver at the fierce command
  That goads you up the danger hill,
  You cry:  “O Fate, O Life, be kind! 
  Grant but an hour of respite—­give
  One moment to my suffering mind! 
  I can not keep the pace and live.” 
  But Fate drives on and will not heed
  The lips that beg, the feet that bleed. 
  Drives, while you faint upon the road,
  Drives, with a menace for a goad;
  With fiery reins of circumstance
  Urging his terrible advance
  The while you cry in your despair,
  “The pain is more than I can bear!”

  Fear not the goad, fear not the pace,
  Plead not to fall from out the race—­
  It is your own Self driving you,
  Your Self that you have never known,
  Seeing your little self alone. 
  Your Self, high-seated charioteer,
  Master of cowardice and fear,
  Your Self that sees the shining length
  Of all the fearful road ahead,
  Knows that the terrors that you dread
  Are pigmies to your splendid strength;
  Strength you have never even guessed,
  Strength that has never needed rest. 
  Your Self that holds the mastering rein,
  Seeing beyond the sweat and pain
  And anguish of your driven soul,
  The patient beauty of the goal!

  Fighting upon the terror field
  Where man and Fate came breast to breast,
  Prest by a thousand foes to yield,
  Tortured and wounded without rest,
  You cried:  “Be merciful, O Life—­
  The strongest spirit soon must break
  Before this all-unequal strife,
  This endless fight for failure’s sake!”
  But Fate, unheeding, lifted high
  His sword, and thrust you through to die,
  And then there came one strong and great,
  Who towered high o’er Chance and Fate,
  Who bound your wound and eased your pain
  And bade you rise and fight again. 
  And from some source you did not guess
  Gushed a great tide of happiness—­
  A courage mightier than the sun—­
  You rose and fought and, fighting, won!