Most blest is he who in the morning time
Sets forth upon his journey with no staff
Shaped by another for his use. Who sees
The imminent necessity for toil,
And with each morning wakens to the thought
Of tasks that wait his doing. Never yet
Has unearned leisure and the gift of gold
Bestowed such benefits upon the young
As need and loneliness; and when life adds
The burden of a duty, difficult,
And hard to carry, then rejoice, O soul!
And know thyself one chosen for high things.
Behind thee walk the Helpers. Yet lead on!
They only help the lifters, and they give
But unto those who also freely give.
Not till thy will, thy courage, and thy strength
Have done their utmost, and thy love has flowed
In pity and compassion, out to all
(The worthless, the ungrateful, and the weak,
As well as to the worthy and the strong)
Canst thou receive invisible support.
Do first thy part, and all of it, before
Asking the helpers to do aught for thee.
For this alone the Universe exists,
That man may find himself is Destiny.
Poems of experience. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London : Gay and Hancock, Ltd. 1910.
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