THE HALF UNDONE
Hechose to do his stint by deed—Not words but action was his creed;When at his door some need would knock,He gave—and wasted little talk.He never had too big a loadTo ease the traveller on the road;His hearth was warm—so was his bedAnd no one left his house unfed.He did not gossip—if he talked’Twas well advised—he never knocked;He never knocked nor did he raiseAt any time his voice in praise;The little gracious things folks say,He left them out—it was his way.He left so many out that theyWho shared his roof from day to day,Went hungering in their souls the whileFor just a pleasant word or smile.It was as if he’d gone and madeA covenant with God to aidHis fellowman—so far as heCould help that man materially;But as for giving from his storeThose gifts the heart keeps longing for—And lacking which goes beggaring—Well that was quite another thing.Somehow I think that such an oneLeaves half his task in life undone.
Hechose to do his stint by deed—Not words but action was his creed;When at his door some need would knock,He gave—and wasted little talk.He never had too big a loadTo ease the traveller on the road;His hearth was warm—so was his bedAnd no one left his house unfed.He did not gossip—if he talked’Twas well advised—he never knocked;He never knocked nor did he raiseAt any time his voice in praise;The little gracious things folks say,He left them out—it was his way.He left so many out that theyWho shared his roof from day to day,Went hungering in their souls the whileFor just a pleasant word or smile.It was as if he’d gone and madeA covenant with God to aidHis fellowman—so far as heCould help that man materially;But as for giving from his storeThose gifts the heart keeps longing for—And lacking which goes beggaring—Well that was quite another thing.Somehow I think that such an oneLeaves half his task in life undone.
Hechose to do his stint by deed—Not words but action was his creed;When at his door some need would knock,He gave—and wasted little talk.
He never had too big a loadTo ease the traveller on the road;His hearth was warm—so was his bedAnd no one left his house unfed.He did not gossip—if he talked’Twas well advised—he never knocked;He never knocked nor did he raiseAt any time his voice in praise;The little gracious things folks say,He left them out—it was his way.
He left so many out that theyWho shared his roof from day to day,Went hungering in their souls the whileFor just a pleasant word or smile.It was as if he’d gone and madeA covenant with God to aidHis fellowman—so far as heCould help that man materially;But as for giving from his storeThose gifts the heart keeps longing for—And lacking which goes beggaring—Well that was quite another thing.
Somehow I think that such an oneLeaves half his task in life undone.