It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home

The man who wants a garden fair, or small or very big, With flowers growing here and there, Must bend his back and dig. The things are mighty few on earth That wishes can attain. Whate'er we want of any worth We've got to work to gain. It matters not what goal you seek, It's secret here reposes: You've got to dig from week to week To get Results or Roses.

I'll obey them in the winter when the doctors say to me I must give up ham and spinach, and obedient I'll be. To relieve my indigestion in December they can try, But there's none of them can stop me when it's time for cherry pie.

I have to live with myself and so, I want to be fit for myself to know.

Who does his task from day to day and meets whatever comes his way, Believing God has willed it so, has found real greatness here below. Who guards his post, no matter where, believing God must need him there, Although but lowly toil it be, has risen to nobility. For great and low there's just one test, 'tis that each man shall do his best, Who works with all the strength he can, shall never die in debt to man.

I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day; I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way.

You when the storm is raging - how do you face despair? It is you that the world discovers, whatever the clothes you wear.