Lord, Make A Regular Man Out Of Me by Edgar Guest

This I would like to be- braver and bolder, 
Just a bit wiser because I am older, 
Just a bit kinder to those I may meet, 
Just a bit manlier taking defeat; 
This for the New Year my wish and my plea- 
Lord, make a regular man out of me. 

This I would like to be- just a bit finer, 
More of a smiler and less of a whiner, 
Just a bit quicker to stretch out my hand 
Helping another who's struggling to stand, 
This is my prayer for the New Year to be, 
Lord, make a regular man out of me.  

This I would like to be- just a bit fairer, 
Just a bit better, and just a bit squarer, 
Not quite so ready to censure and blame, 
Quicker to help every man in the game, 
Not quite so eager men's failings to see, 
Lord, make a regular man out of me. 

This I would like to be- just a bit truer, 
Less of the wisher and more of the doer, 
Broader and bigger, more willing to give, 
Living and helping my neighbor to live! 
This for the New Year my prayer and my plea- 
Lord, make a regular man out of me. 

Myself by Edgar Guest

I have to live with myself, and so,
I want to be fit for myself to know;
I want to be able as days go by,
Always to look myself straight in the eye;
I don't want to stand with the setting sun
And hate myself for the things I've done.


I don't want to keep on a closet shelf
A lot of secrets about myself,
And fool myself as I come and go
Into thinking that nobody else will know
The kind of man I really am;
I don't want to dress myself up in sham.


I want to go out with my head erect,
I want to deserve all men's respect; 
But here in this struggle for fame and pelf,
I want to be able to like myself.
I don't want to think as I come and go
That I'm bluster and bluff and empty show.


I never can hide myself from me,
I see what others may never see,
I know what others may never know,
I never can fool myself- and so,
Whatever happens, I want to be 
Self-respecting and conscience free.

It Couldn't Be Done by Edgar Guest

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'd 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.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
  At least no one ever has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
  And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
  Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
  That couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
  There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
  The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
  Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
  That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

See It Through by Edgar Guest

When you're up against a trouble, 
Meet it squarely, face to face; 
Lift your chin and set your shoulders,
Plant your feet and take a brace.
When it's vain to try to dodge it,
Do the best that you can do;
You may fail, but you may conquer,
See it through! 

Black may be the clouds about you
And your future may seem grim,
But don't let your nerve desert you;
Keep yourself in fighting trim.
If the worst is bound to happen,
Spite of all that you can do,
Running from it will not save you,
See it through! 

Even hope may seem but futile,
When with troubles you're beset,
But remember you are facing
Just what other men have met.
You may fail, but fall still fighting;
Don't give up, whate'er you do;
Eyes front, head high to the finish.
See it through!

First I'll Be A Mother

Some houses try to hide the fact

That children shelter there,
Ours boasts it quite openly,
The signs are everywhere. 

For smears are on the windows,
Little smudges are on the doors
I should apologize, I guess
For toys strew on the floor.

But I sat down with my child
And we played and laughed and read
And if the doorbell doesn’t shine,
His eyes will shine instead.

For when at times I’m forced to choose
The one job or the other,
I’d like to cook and clean and scrub,
But first I’ll be a mother.

~Poet unknown

The Secret Of A Happy Home Life: Christ by J. R. Miller

What are some of the secrets of happy home life?

The answer might be given in one word—Christ. 

Christ at the marriage-altar;

Christ on the bridal journey;

Christ when the new home is set up;

Christ when the baby is born;

Christ when a child dies;

Christ in the pinching times;

Christ in the days of plenty;

Christ in the nursery, in the kitchen, in the parlor;

Christ in the toil and in the rest;

Christ along all the years;

Christ when the wedded pair walk toward the sunset gates;

Christ in the sad hour when farewells are spoken,

and one goes on before and the other stays, bearing the unshared grief.

Christ is the secret of happy home life. 

No Children by Edgar A. Guest

No children in the house to play–

It must be hard to live that way!

I wonder what the people do

When night comes on and the work is through,

With no glad little folks to shout,

No eager feet to race about,

No youthful tongues to chatter on

About the joy that’s been and gone?

The house might be a castle fine,

But what a lonely place to dine!

No children in the house at all,

No fingermarks upon the wall,

No corner where the toys are piled–

Sure indication of a child.

No little lips to breathe the prayer

That God shall keep you in His care,

No glad caress and welcome sweet

When night returns you to your street;

No little lips a kiss to give–

Oh, what a lonely way to live!

No children in the house! I fear

We could not stand it half a year.

What would we talk about at night,

Plan for and work with all our might,

Hold common dreams about and find

True union of heart and mind,

If we two had no greater care

Than what we both should eat and wear?

We never knew love’s brightest flame

Until the day the baby came.

And now we could not get along

Without their laughter and their song.

Joy is not bottled on a shelf,

It cannot feed upon itself,

And even love, if it shall wear,

Must find its happiness in care;

Dull we’d become of mind and speech

Had we no little ones to teach.

No children in the house to play!

Oh, we could never live that way!