TO play through life a perfect part,

Unnoticed and unknown;

To seek no rest in any heart

Save only God’s alone;

In little things to own will,

To have no share in great,

To find the labor ready still,

And for the crown to wait;

Upon the brow to bear no trace

Of more than common care;

To write no secret in the face

For men to read it there;

The daily cross to clasp and bless

With such familiar zeal

As hides from all that not the less

Its daily weight you feel;

In toils that praise will never pay

To meet in every coming day

Twin sister of the last;

To hear of high, heroic things,

And yield them reverence due,

But feel life’s daily offerings

Are far more fit for you;

To woo no secret, soft disguise,

To which self-love is prone;

Unnoticed by all other eyes,

Unworthy in your own;

To yield with such a happy art

That no one thinks you care,

Yet say to your poor bleeding heart,

How little you can bear;—

Oh! ‘tis a pathway rough to choose,

A struggle hard to share,

For human pride would still refuse

The nameless trials there;

But since we know the gate is low

That leads to heavenly bliss,

What higher grace could God bestow

Than such a life as this!

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