by Edgar Guest


There are a thousand ways to cheat and a thousand ways to sin;
There are ways uncounted to lose the game, but there's only one way to win;
And whether you live by the sweat of your brow or in luxury's garb you're dressed,
You shall stand at last, when your race is run, to be judged by the single test.

Some men lie by the things they make; some lie in the deeds they do;
And some play false for a woman's love, and some for a cheer or two;
Some rise to fame by the force of skill, grow great by the might of power,
Then wreck the temple they toiled to build, in a single, shameful hour.

The follies outnumber the virtues good; sin lures in a thousand ways;
But slow is the growth of man's character and patience must mark his days;
For only those victories shall count, when the work of life is done,
Which bear the stamp of an honest man, and by courage and faith were won.

There are a thousand ways to fail, but only one way to win !
Sham cannot cover the wrong you do nor wash out a single sin,
And never shall victory come to you, whatever of skill you do,
Save you've done your best in the work of life and unto your best were true.

Labels: Edgar Guest, Labour Day, Poetry

There is perhaps nothing more delightful that watching a young boy, maybe three-years old, trying to light candles in church.

"Come what may, I'm not gonna budge till all the candles are lighted" said the earnest look on the face that is seen only in children who fancy themselves as grown up.

Shooting impatient and confused glances at the fan above that kept extinguishing the candles that he had lighted with great patience the youngster struck to his voluntary task even as his mother chattered on oblivious to his doings.

And not befor long you had the entire deck shining with three rows of candles.

Happy Easter