the sweat and pain
And anguish of your driven soul,
The patient beauty of the goal!

Fighting upon the terror field
Where man and Fate came breast to breast,
Prest by a thousand foes to yield,
Tortured and wounded without rest,
You cried: "Be merciful, O Life--
The strongest spirit soon must break
Before this all-unequal strife,
This endless fight for failure's sake!"
But Fate, unheeding, lifted high
His sword, and thrust you through to die,
And then there came one strong and great,
Who towered high o'er Chance and Fate,
Who bound your wound and eased your pain
And bade you rise and fight again.
And from some source you did not guess
Gushed a great tide of happiness--
A courage mightier than the sun--
You rose and fought and, fighting, won!

It was your own Self saving you,
Your Self no man has ever known,
Looking on flesh and blood alone.
That Self that lives so close to God
As roots that feed upon the sod.
That one who stands behind the screen,
Looks through the window of your eyes--
A being out of Paradise.
The Self no human eye has seen,
The living one who never tires,
Fed by the deep eternal fires.
Your flaming Self, with two-edged sword,
Made in the likeness of the Lord,
Angel and guardian at the gate,
Master of Death and King of Fate!

_Angela Morgan._

From "The Hour Has Struck."

JUST WHISTLE

There is a psychological benefit in the mere physical act of whistling.
When the body makes music, the spirit falls into harmonies too and the
discords that assail us cease to make themselves heard.

When times are bad an' folks are sad
An' gloomy day by day,
Jest try your best at lookin' glad
An' whistle 'em away.

Don't mind how troubles bristle,
Jest take a rose or thistle.
Hold your own
An' change your tone
An' whistle, whistle, whistle!

A song is worth a world o' sighs.
When red the lightnings play,
Look for the rainbow in the skies
An' whistle 'em away.

Don't mind how troubles bristle,
The rose comes with the thistle.
Hold your own
An' change your tone
An' whistle, whistle, whistle!

Each day comes with a life that's new,
A strange, continued story
But still beneath a bend o' blue
The world rolls on to glory.

Don't mind how troubles bristle,
Jest take a rose or thistle.
Hold your own
An' change your tone
An' whistle, w