by Maltbie Davenport Babcock
(Born August 3, 1858; died May 18, 1901)
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift;
We have hard work to do, and loads to lift;
Shun not the struggle--face it; 'tis God's gift.
Say not, "The days are evil. Who's to blame?"
And fold the hands and acquiesce--oh shame!
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God's name.
It matters not how deep intrenched the wrong,
How hard the battle goes, the day how long;
Faint not--fight on! To-morrow comes the song.