If

If you can keep your head when all about you 

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; 

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, 

But make allowance for their doubting too: 

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, 

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, 

Or being hated don't give way to hating, 

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; 

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master; 

If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim, 

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster 

And treat those two impostors just the same:. 

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken 

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, 

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, 

And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools; 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings 

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, 

And lose, and start again at your beginnings, 

And never breathe a word about your loss: 

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew 

To serve your turn long after they are gone, 

And so hold on when there is nothing in you 

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, 

Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch, 

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, 

If all men count with you, but none too much: 

If you can fill the unforgiving minute 

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, 

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, 

And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

by

Rudyard KiplingIf

When the wind blows!

Years ago a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast. He constantly advertised for hired hands, however, most people were reluctant to work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops.

As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received a steady stream of refusals. Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached the farmer. 'Are you a good farm hand?' the farmer asked him.

'Well, I can sleep when the wind blows,' answered the little man. Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help decided to hired him.

The little man worked well around the farm, busy from dawn to dusk, and the farmer felt well satisfied with the his work. Then one night the wind howled in loudly from offshore. Jumping out of bed, the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand's sleeping quarters. He shook the little man and yelled, 'Get up! A storm is coming! Tie things down before they blow away!'

The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, 'No sir, told you, I can sleep when the wind blows.'

Enraged by the response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead, he hurried outside to prepare for the storm. To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn, the chickens were in the coop and the doors were barred. The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down. Nothing could blow away. The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant, so he returned to his bed to also sleep while the wind blew.

Moral: When you're prepared spiritually, mentally and physically, you have nothing to fear. Can you sleep when the wind blows through your life?

The Tides of Providence

It's not what you gather, but what you sow, 
That gives the heart a warming glow.
It's not what you get, but what you give, 
Decides the kind of life you live.

It's not what you have, 
But what you spare. 
It's not what you take, 
But what you share 
That pays the greater dividend 
And makes you richer in the end. 

It's not what you spend upon yourself 
Or hide away upon a shelf, 
That brings a blessing for the day. 
It's what you scatter by the way. 

A wasted effort it may seem. 
But what you cast upon the stream
Comes back to you recompense 
Upon the tides of providence.

By

Patience Strong