From the Evening Star, July 12, 1913. By Walt Mason.
We all must have our evil days—that is the earthly plan; and when you’re treading rocky ways be patient as you can. For if, in brooding o’er your ills, you spend the dragging time, and if you count the weary hills you know you yet must climb, you’re pretty sure to overlook the good things on your way; the bank of flowers, the singing brook, the meadow sweet with hay. You hear the ravens croak and squawk as you pursue the trail; but if you listen as you walk, you’ll hear the nightingale. The brambles have your garments torn and multiplied your woes; but if you look, near every thorn you’ll doubtless find a rose. The clouds are banking in the west, you see the lightning’s gleam, but there’s an inn where pilgrims rest beside the fire and dream. “The night is closing cold and damp, and I am lost,” you moan; but in some window there’s a lamp that burns for you alone. And if we’re wise we all can sense the joy beyond the care; there always is a recompense for every grief we bear. So when a rough and dreary road and frowning sky we scan, let’s stand up straight beneath our load—be patient as we can!
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