While It Is Yet To-day
By Edith M. Ericson
THE kindly word, the friendly greeting given,
Is like a balm unto the weary soul;
The pleasant smile, like the sweet breath of heaven,
Will heal the wounded heart and make it whole.
Awake, my soul, while it is yet to-day,
And bless thy fellows all along thy way. In every heart some grief, some pain, is beating;
In every eye hath been the bitter tear;
Live not in idle dreams—the time is fleeting—
Awake, and strive with purpose deep to cheer
The hearts discouraged, wearied, in the fray;
Pass not unheeding one such heart to-day. Thou dost not know the burdens they are bearing;
Their sorrows and their griefs may be untold;
But if thine act can show them one is caring,
Do not that gracious, kindly act withhold.
Thou mayest never pass again their way;
Awake, my soul, and bless them now, to-day. The little things, the simple acts of kindness—
Do these, my soul — wait not for something great;
Close not thine eyes in voluntary blindness,
Else when thou seest it shall be too late.
The time is short; thou hast not long to stay;
Awake, my soul, while it is yet to-day.