Spring's Greatest Joy Beyond A

The Proof Of A Man Is The Danger Test, That Shows Him Up At His Worst Or Best.

For Age Is Not Alone Of Time, Or We Should Never See Men Old And Bent At Forty And Men Young At Seventy-three.

There's Nothing That Builds Up A Toil-weary Soul Like A Day On A Stream, Back On The Banks Of The Old Fishing Hole Where A Fellow Can Dream. There's Nothing So Good For A Man As To Flee From The City And Lie Full Length In The Shade Of A Whispering Tree And Gaze At The Sky. . . . . It Is Good For The World That Men Hunger To Go To The Banks Of A Stream, And Weary Of Sham And Of Pomp And Of Show They Have Somewhere To Dream. For This Life Would Be Dreary And Sordid And Base Did They Not Now And Then Seek Refreshment And Calm In God's Wide, Open Space And Come Back To Be Men.

Somebody Said That It Couldn't Be Done But He With A Chuckle Replied That "maybe It Couldn't," But He Would Be One Who Wouldn't Say So Till He Tried. So He Buckled Right In With The Trace Of A Grin On His Face. If He Worried He Hid It. He Started To Sing As He Tackled The Thing That Couldn't Be Done, And He Did It.

You Are The Person Who Has To Decide. Whether You'll Do It Or Toss It Aside; You Are The Person Who Makes Up Your Mind. Whether You'll Lead Or Will Linger Behind. Whether You'll Try For The Goal That's Afar. Or Just Be Contented To Stay Where You Are.