A DAILY PRAYER

Within your home please keep this scroll
Hung on the wall throughout the year,
And as your plans each morn unfold,
You may recite this simple prayer.

Our Father, bless this house each day,
As we our daily course pursue;
And may we all Thy Will obey
In everything we plan, or do.

Make our abode a happy home,
Where all is love and harmony;
Where strife or quarrels never come,
And keep from harm and dangers free.

Help us our daily griefs to bear,
Each others faults, quick to forgive;
May we give thanks for joys we share,
And for our bread by which we live.

What e'er our daily task may be,
However humble be our lot;
May each and every one agree
To be content, and murmur not.

May we be spared from day to day
To carry on, and do our best,
And may we all in some small way,
Show forth our love, and thankfulness.

Amen

1944

THE BEND IN THE ROAD

"Where are our friends of yesterday,"
He asked in accents low;
"They're gone and vanished from our sight,
Where are they, do you know?"

"Some of them lived their span of years,
Their life's course was well run,
While others seemed to disappear
Leaving their work half done."

"These friends" I answered "That we lament,
Who trod the road we tread,
They awaits for us around the bend
Of the road that lies ahead."

"And all our friends who disappeared
Like passing ships at night,
Are they now watching us each day,
Or, are we hid from sight?"

"And can they see us when we fall
Beside life's rugged road,
And beckons us to 'Carry on'
When weary with our load?"

"I do not know, I cannot tell,
But his I will contend,
Our friends are waiting for us now,
And just around the bend."

"When we have finished our last mile,
And reached our journey's end,
It's then we'll meet the friends that wait
For us around the bend."

April, 1944

SPRING CLEANING

Spring cleaning time will soon be here,
On this I'm most emphatic,
Then everything will be disturbed
From cellar to the attic.

Housewives will don their dust caps then,
To start their overhauling,
And busy brushing cobwebs down,
Or from step ladders falling.

The vacuum cleaners soon will hum,
And dust they will be chasing,
All paintwork will be washed so clean,
The doors, the walls and casing.

The pantry shelves will all be cleaned,
The pie plates and the custard,
And everything put back in place
From pepper pots to mustard.

The winter woolies will be stored
With moth balls in the closets,
To keep the pesky little moths
From leaving their deposits.

House cleaning is a lot of work
As I have here presented,
But when the job it is well done
The housewife sleeps contented.

April, 1944

THE SLEEPING DOLL

A little girl sat deep in thought,
Paper and pencil in each hand;
At last in serious mood she wrote,
"Dear Santa Claus" her note began.

"I'm writing you to say that if
You haven't dolls enough to share
With every little girl, then please
Don't bring a doll to me this year."

"Just down our street ten doors away
Where the big elm tree grows so tall,
There is a little orphan girl
Who haven't any doll at all."

"So if you please dear Santa Claus,
Bring her a doll, one that will cry,
And go to sleep when lying down,
When on our street you're passing by."

And when her father read the note
Scrawled by a little hand so small,
Said he, "I'll tell old Santa Claus
To bring that little girl a doll."

And in that house on Christmas morn
Where the big elm tree grows so tall,
A little girl was thrilled with joy,
Because she owned a sleeping doll.

Christmas, 1944

OLD JEFF

Old Jeff he was a quiet man,
And never heard to 'cuss',
He never argued with his wife
When she would start a fuss.

He'd sit around the house at night
With leg crossed o'er his knee,
and smoke his pipe with sweet content;
A happy man was he.

He was an easy going soul,
Folks said he had no pride,
But Jeff took everything in fun,
And never seemed annoyed.

Old Jeff he was an honest man,
He seemed too slow to rob,
But when he had his work to do
He did an honest job.

He went each Sunday to his church,
And sat in the same pew;
He'd listen to the parson preach
The things he ought to do.

Until one day old Jeff passed on
Into a better land,
And 'though he leaved no wealth behind,
He died an honest man.

April, 1944

A DREAMER'S VACATION

Let us go on our vacation,
And enjoy a relaxation
Far from the busy city's noisy throng,
Out among the open spaces
Where we'll see no worried faces,
And be happy as the summer days are long.

By some foaming whirling eddy,
Or a purling brook or steadie
We'll fish for trout in running brook or stream,
As we land the speckled beauties,
We'll forget our cares and duties,
And wonder if it isn't all a dream.

Lying 'neath the leafy bowers
We will bask in sunlight hours,
Gazing up where fleecy clouds drifts on,
Or at night when stars are gleaming
If we're not asleep or dreaming,
We may hear the noisy bullfrog in the pond.

We may scan some sunlit mountain
Or bathe in a cooling fountain,
And hear the passing storm in tree tops roar,
And by watching nature's teachers
Different birds and living creatures,
We may learn something we never knew before.

In the early morning hours
If it threatens rain or showers,
We will just relax and fall asleep again,
And if rain drops loudly patter
On the roof it will not matter,
We'll forget about our troubles and the rain.

It will be a grand vacation
For a man of any station
To enjoy the passing moments of each day,
And when winter gales are whining,
When at home he's safe reclining,
He'll be telling how the big one got away.

March, 1944

THESE GIFTS I ASK

These early gifts I ask, from day to day;
To dwell in peace, to have a home, and hearth,
A will to live, and free to tread this earth,
And help my fellow man in some small way.

These early gifts I ask; good neighbours, and
True friends, who will not shun me if I fail,
A quiet street, with homes where love prevail;
All speaking in the tongue I understand.

These earthly gifts I ask; a garden plot
Behind my cottage, where in leisure hours,
I'll hoe the weeds, and cultivate fair flowers,
And live in peace, contented with my lot.

These earthly gifts I ask; a rod, and line,
And casting for the trout in stream, or brook,
And landing speckled beauties with my hook;
Is this too much to ask, this wish of mine?

These earthly gifts I ask; each day to be
A little wiser than the day before;
To take a page each day from wisdom's lore,
And learn something worth while; be this my plea.

These earthly gifts I ask; a conscience clear
That will not mar my peace of mind each day,
To live in honest life, my simple way,
And harm no man; this is my earnest prayer.

May, 1944

THE SEASON'S GREETINGS

To you and yours this Christmas Tide
We wish both joy and gladness;
May nothing mar this festal day,
And nothing bring you sadness.

And When another New Year dawns
Upon this earth and nation;
May you and yours enjoy each day,
Throughout the year's duration.

Christmas, 1944