We get back our mete as we measure,
We cannot do wrong and feel right.
Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,
For Justice avenges each slight.
The air for the wings of the sparrow,
The bush for the robin and wren,
But always the path that is narrow
And straight for the children of men.
—
Humility kneels in the dust, but gazes on the skies. Cheerfulness is the weather of the heart.
