Around the Year with Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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I tell you the future can hold no terrors
For any sad soul while the stars revolve,
If he will stand firm on the grave of his errors,
And instead of regretting, resolve, resolve!

RESOLVE

As the dead year is clasped by a dead December,
    So let your dead sins with your dead days lie.
A new life is yours, and a new hope. Remember,
    We build our own ladders to climb to the sky.
Stand out in the sunlight of Promise, forgetting
    Whatever the Past held of sorrow or wrong.
We waste half our strength in a useless regretting;
    We sit by old tombs in the dark too long.

Have you missed in your aim? Well, the mark is still shining.
    Did you faint in the race? Well, take breath for the next.
Did the clouds drive you back? But see yonder their lining.
    Were you tempted and fell? Let it serve for a text.
As each year hurries by let it join that procession
    Of skeleton shapes that march down to the Past,
While you take your place in the line of Progression,
    With your eyes on the heavens, your face to the blast.

I tell you the future can hold no terrors
    For any sad soul while the stars revolve,
If he will stand firm on the grave of his errors,
    And instead of regretting, resolve, resolve.
It is never too late to begin rebuilding,
    Though all into ruins your life seems hurled,
For see how the light of the New Year is gilding
    The wan, worn face of the bruised old world.

Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.

1st ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Then say: "I shall be given help to meet anything
that comes to-day, everything will be for the best. I
shall succeed in whatever I undertake. I cannot fail."

Morning Influences

hat do you think about the very
first thing in the morning?
Your thoughts during the first
half-hour of the morning will
greatly influence the entire day.
You may not realize this, but it is
nevertheless a fact.
If you set out with worry, and depression,
and bitterness of soul toward fate or man, you
are giving the key note to a day of discords and
misfortunes.
If you think peace, hope and happiness, you
are sounding a note of harmony and success.
The result may not be felt at once, but it
will not fail to make itself evident eventually.
Control your morning thoughts. You can do it.
The first moment on waking, no matter what
your mood, say to yourself: "I will get all the
comfort and pleasure possible out of this day,
and I will do something to add to the measure of
the world's happiness or well-being. I will con-
trol myself when tempted to be irritable or un-
happy, I will look for the bright side of every
event."
Once you say these things over to yourself in
a calm, earnest way, you will begin to feel more
cheerful. The worries and troubles of the com-
ing day will seem less colossal.
Then say: "I shall be given help to meet
anything that comes to-day. Everything will be
for the best. I shall succeed in whatever I
undertake. I cannot fail."
Do not let it discourage you if the moment
you leave your room you encounter a trouble or
a disaster. This usually happens. When we
make any boasts, spiritually or physically, we
are put to the test. The occult forces about us
are not unlike human beings. When a school-
boy boasts of his strength, and says he can "lick
any boy in school," he generally gets a chance
to prove it.
When we declare we are brave enough to
overcome any fate, we find our strength put to
the test at once.
But that is all right. Prove your words to
be true. Regard the troubles and cares you en-
counter as the "punching bags" of fate, given
you to develop your spiritual muscle.
Go at them with courage and keep to your
morning resolve.
By and by the troubles will lessen, and you
will find yourself master of Circumstances.

The Heart of the New Thought by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago : The Psychic Research Company, c1902

2nd ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Wake in the morning with a blessing for every
living thing on your lips and in your soul.

Common Sense

f you are suffering from physical
ills, ask yourself if it is not your
own fault.
There is scarcely one person in
one hundred who does not over
eat or drink.
I know an entire family who complain of
gastric troubles, yet who keep the coffee pot con-
tinually on the range and drink large quantities
of that beverage at least twice a day.
No one can be well who does that. Almost
every human ailment can be traced to foolish
diet.
Eat only two meals in twenty-four hours. If
you are not engaged in active physical labor,
make it one meal. Drink two or three or four
quarts of milk at intervals during the day to
supply good blood to the system.
You will thrive upon it, and you will not
miss the other two meals after the first week.
And your ailments will gradually disappear.
Meantime, if you are self supporting, your
bank account will increase.
Think of the waste of money which goes into
indigestible food! It is appalling when you con-
sider it. Heaven speed the time when men and
women find out how little money it requires to
sustain the body in good health and keep the
brain clear and the eye bright!
The heavy drinker is to-day looked upon with
pity and scorn. The time will come when the
heavy eater will be similarly regarded.
Once find the delight of a simple diet, the
benefit to body and mind and purse, and life will
assume new interest, and toil will be robbed of
its drudgery, for it will cease to be a mere
matter of toiling for a bare existence.
Again, are you unhappy? Stop and ask
yourself why. If you have a great sorrow, time
will be your consoler. And there is an ennobl-
ing and enriching effect of sorrow well borne.
It is the education of the soul. But if you
are unhappy over petty worries and trials, you
are wearing yourself to no avail; and if you are
allowing small things to irritate and harass you
and to spoil the beautiful days for you, take
yourself in hand and change your ways.
You can do it if you chose. It is pitiful to
observe what sort of troubles most unhappy
people are afflicted with. I have seen a beauti-
ful young woman grow care lined and faded just
from imagining she was being "slighted" or
neglected by her acquaintances.
Some one nodded coldly to her, another one
spoke superciliously, a third failed to invite her,
a fourth did not pay her a call, and so on--
always a grievance to relate until one is pre-
pared to look sympathetic at the sight of her.
And such petty, petty grievances for this
great, good life to be marred by!
And all the result of her own disposition.
Had she chosen to look for appreciation and
attention and good will she would have found it
everywhere.
Then, about your temper? Is it flying loose
over a trifle? Are you making yourself and
everyone else wretched if a chair is out of
place, or a meal a moment late, or some mem-
ber of the family is tardy at dinner, or your shoe
string is in a tangle or your collar button mis-
laid?
Do you go to pieces nervously if you are
obliged to repeat a remark to some one who did
not understand you? I have known a home to
be ruined by just such infinitesimal annoyances.
It is a habit, like a drug or alcohol habit--
this irritability.
All you need do is to stop it. Keep your
voice from rising, and speak slowly and calmly
when you feel yourself giving way to it. Realize
how ridiculous and disagreeable you will be if
you continue, what an unlovely and hideous old
age you are preparing for yourself. And realize
that a loose temper is a sign of vulgarity and
lack of culture.
Think of the value of each day of life, how
much it means and what possibilities of happi-
ness and usefulness it contains if well spent.
But if you stuff yourself like an anaconda,
dwell on the small worries and grow angry at
the least trifle, you are committing as great and
inexcusable a folly as if you flung your furniture
and garments and food and fuel into the sea in a
spirit of wanton cruelty. You are wasting life
for nothing. Every sick, gloomy day you pass is
a sin against life. Get health, be cheerful, keep
calm.
Clear your mind of every gloomy, selfish
angry or revengeful thought. Allow no resent-
ment or grudge toward man or fate to stay in
your heart over night.
Wake in the morning with a blessing for
every living thing on your lips and in your soul.
Say to yourself: "Health, luck, usefulness, suc-
cess, are mine. I claim them." Keep thinking
that thought, no matter what happens, just as
you would put one foot before another if you had
a mountain to climb. Keep on, keep on, and
suddenly you will find you are on the heights"
luck beside you.
Whoever follows this recipe cannot fail of
happiness, good fortune and a useful life. But
saying the words over once and then drifting back
to anger, selfishness, revenge and gloom will do
no good.
The words must be said over and over, and
thought and lived when not said.

The Heart of the New Thought by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago : The Psychic Research Company, c1902

3rd ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Thought is eternal in its effects, and every hopeful
thought which enters the mind sets vibrations in
motion, which shall help minds millions of miles dis-
tant and lives yet unborn.

High Noon

very woman who passes thirty ought
to keep her brain, heart and mind
alive and warm with human sym-
pathy and emotion. She ought to
interest herself in the lives of others,
and make her friendship valuable
to the young.
She should keep her body supple, and avoid los-
ing the lines of grace: and she should select some
study or work to occupy her spare hours and to
lend a zest to the coming years. Every woman
in the comfortable walks in life can find time for
such a study. No woman of tact, charm, refine-
ment and feeling need ever let her husband, unless
she has married a clod, become indifferent or com-
monplace in his treatment of her. Man reflects
to an astonishing degree woman's sentiments for
him.
Keep sentiment alive in your own heart,
madam, and in the heart of your husband. If he
sees that other men admire you he will be more
alert to the necessity of remaining your lover.
Take the happy, safe, medium path between
a gray and a gay life by keeping it radiant and
bright. Read and think and talk of cheerful,
hopeful, interesting subjects. Avoid small gossip,
and be careful in your criticism of neighbors.
Sometimes we must criticise, but speak to people
whose faults you feel a word of counsel may
amend, not of them to others.
Make your life after it reaches its noon, glorious
with sunlight, rich with harvests, and bright with
color. Be alive in mind, heart and body. Be
joyous without giddiness, loving without silliness,
attractive without being flirtatious, attentive to
others' needs without being officious, and instruc-
tive without too great a display of erudition.
Be a noble, loving, lovable woman.
It is never too late in life to make a new start.
No matter how small a beginning may be, it is
so much begun for a new incarnation if it is cut
off here by death.
If I were one hundred years old, and in pos-
session of my faculties, I would not hesitate to
undertake a new enterprise which offered a hope
of bettering my condition.
Thought is eternal in its effects, and every
hopeful thought which enters the mind sets
vibrations in motion, which shall help minds
millions of miles distant and lives yet unborn.
It is folly to mourn over a failure to provide
opportunities and luxuries for children. We have
only to look at the children of the rich, to see
how little enduring happiness money gives, and
how seldom great advantages result in great
characters. The majority of the really great
people of the world, in all lines of achievement,
have sprung from poverty. I do not mean from
pauper homes, but from the homes where only the
mere necessities of life could be obtained, and
where early in their youth the children felt it
necessary to go into the world and make their
own way. Self-dependence, self-reliance, energy,
ambition, were all developed in this way.
How rarely do we find these qualities in the
children of wealth. How rarely do great phil-
osophers, great statesman, great thinkers and
great characters develop from the wealthy classes.
Pauperism--infant labor--the wage-earning
women--are all evils I believe the worst thing
possible for a human soul is to be born to wealth.
It is an obstacle to greatness which few are strong
enough to surmount, and it rarely results in
happiness to the recipient.

The Heart of the New Thought by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago : The Psychic Research Company, c1902.

4th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

God toiled six days to make this earth
   I think the good folks say--
Six lives we need to give full meed
   Of praise--one for each day
   If love stay near.

COLEUR DE ROSE

I want more lives in which to love
This world so full of beauty,
I want more days to use the ways
I know of doing duty;
I ask no greater joy than this
(So much I am life's lover,)
When I reach age to turn the page
And read the story over,
(Oh love stay near!)

Oh rapturous promise of the Spring!
Oh June fulfilling after!
If Autumns sigh, when Summers die,
'Tis drowned in Winter's laughter.
Oh maiden dawns, oh wifely noons,
Oh siren sweet, sweet nights,
I'd want no heaven could earth be given
Again with its delights,
(If love stayed near!)

There are such glories for the eye,
Such pleasures for the ear,
The senses reel with all they feel
And see and taste and hear;
There are such ways of doing good,
Such ways of being kind,
And bread that's cast on waters fast
Comes home again, I find.
(Oh love stay near.)

There are such royal souls to know,
There is so much to learn,
While secrets rest in Nature's breast
And unnamed stars still burn.
God toiled six days to make this earth,
I think the good folks say--
Six lives we need to give full meed
Of praise--one for each day,
(If love stay near.)

But oh! if love fled far away,
Or veiled his face from me,
One life too much, why then were such
A life as this would be.
With sullen May and blighted June
Blurred dawn and haggard night,
This dear old world in space were hurled
If love lent not his light.
(Oh love stay near.)

Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906

5th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

If you must pay the penalty for sin,
In vales of darkness, ere you pass on higher
I will petition God to let me go.
I would not wait on earth, nor enter in
To any joys before you. I desire
No glory greater than to share your woe.

TWO PRAYERS

HIS

Dear, when you lift your gentle heart in prayer,
    Ask God to send his angel Death to me
    Long ere he comes to you, if that may be.
I would dwell with you in that new life there,
But having, manlike, sinned, I must prepare,
    By sad probation, ere I hope to see
    Those upper realms which are at once thrown free

To sweet, white souls like yours, unstained and fair.
Time is so brief on earth, I well might spare
    A few short years, if so I could atone
    For my marred past, ere you are called above.
My soul would glory in its own despair,
    Till purified I met you at God's throne,
    And entered on Eternities of Love.

HERS

Nay, Love, not so I frame my prayer to God;
    I want you close beside me to the end;
    If it could be, I would have Him send
A simultaneous death, and let one sod
Cover our two hushed hearts. If you have trod
    Paths strange to me on earth, oh, let me wend
    My way with yours hereafter; let me blend
My tears with yours beneath the chastening rod.
If you must pay the penalty for sin,
    In vales of darkness, ere you pass on higher,
    I will petition God to let me go.
I would not wait on earth, nor enter in
    To any joys before you. I desire
    No glory greater than to share your woe.

Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917

6th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Let there be many windows to your soul,
That all the glory of the universe
May beautify it.

Progress

Let there be many windows to your soul,
That all the glory of the universe
May beautify it. Not the narrow pane
Of one poor creed can catch the radiant rays
That shine from countless sources. Tear away
The blinds of superstition; let the light
Pour through fair windows broad as truth itself
And high as God.

Why should the spirit peer
Through some priest-curtained orifice, and grope
Along dim corridors of doubt, when all
The splendor from unfathomed seas of space
Might bathe it with the golden waves of Love?
Sweep up the debris of decaying faiths;
Sweep down the cobwebs of worn-out beliefs,
And throw your soul wide open to the light
Of Reason and of Knowledge. Tune your ear
To all the wordless music of the stars
And to the voice of Nature, and your heart
Shall turn to truth and goodness as the plant
Turns to the sun. A thousand unseen hands
Reach down to help you to their peace-crowned heights,
And all the forces of the firmament
Shall fortify your strength. Be not afraid
To thrust aside half-truths and grasp the whole.

Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917

7th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

There is a divine purpose in your being on earth.
Think of yourself as necessary to the great
design. It is an inspiring thought.

Thought Force.

our spirit and mine are both part
of the stupendous cause. We have
always been, and always will be.
First in one form, then in another.
Every thought, word and deed
is helping decide your next place
in the Creator's magnificent universe. You will
be beautiful or ugly, wise or ignorant, fortunate
or unfortunate, according to what use you make
of yourself here and now.
Unselfish thoughts, training your mind to de-
sire only universal good, the cultivation of the
highest attributes, such as love, honesty, grati-
tude, faith, reverence and good will, all mean a
life of usefulness and happiness in another incar-
nation, as well as satisfaction and self-respect in
this sphere.
Even if you escape the immediate results of
the opposite course of action here, you must face
the law of cause and effect in the next state. It
is inevitable. God, the maker of all things, does
not change His laws. "As you sow you reap."
"As a man thinketh so is he." There is no "re-
venge" in God's mind. He simply makes His
laws, and we work our destinies for good or ill
according to our adherence to them or violation
of them.
Each one of us is a needed part of His great
plan. Let each soul say: "He has need of me or
I would not be. I am here to strengthen the
plan." Remember that always in your most dis-
couraged hours.
The Creator makes no mistakes.
There is a divine purpose in your being on
earth. Think of yourself as necessary to the
great design. It is an inspiring thought. And
then consider the immensity of the universe and
how accurately the Maker planned it all.
Do not associate with pessimists. If you are
unfortunate enough to be the son or daughter
husband or wife of one, put cotton (either real
or spiritual) in your ears, and shut out the poi-
son words of discouragement and despondency.
No tie of blood or law should compel you to
listen to what means discomfort and disaster to
you.
Get out and away, into the society of optim-
istic people.
Before you go, insist on saying cheerful, hope-
ful and bright things, sowing the seed, as it were,
in the mental ground behind you. But do not sit
down to see it grow.
Never feel that it is your duty to stay closely
and continously in the atmosphere of the despondent.
You might as well think it your duty to stay
in deep water with one who would not make the
least effort to swim.
Get on shore and throw out a life-line, but do
dot remain and be dragged under.
If you find any one determined to talk failure
and sickness and misfortune and disaster, walk
away.
You would not permit the dearest person on
earth to administer slow poison to you if you
knew it. Then why think it your duty to take
mental potions which paralyze your courage and
kill your ambition?
Despondency is one phase of immorality. It
is blasphemous and an insult to the Creator.
You are justified in avoiding the people who
send you from their presence with less hope and
force and strength to cope with life's problems
than when you met them.
Do what you can to change their current of
thought. But do not associate intimately with
them until they have learned to keep silent-- at
least, if they cannot speak hopefully.
Learn how to walk, how to poise your body,
how to breathe, how to hold your head, how to
focus your mind on things of universal import-
ance. Believe your tender, loving thoughts and
wishes for good to all humanity have power
to help the struggling souls of earth to rise to
higher and better conditions. No matter how
limited your sphere of action may seem to you
and how small your town appears on the map,
if you develop your mental and spiritual forces
through love thoughts you can be a power to move
the world along. Rise up and realize your strength.
Not only will you be more useful and happy, but
you will grow more beautiful and keep your
youth.

The Heart of the New Thought by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago : The Psychic Research Company, c1902

8th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

. . . We all may be
The Saviours of the world, if we believe
In the Divinity which dwells in us,
And worship it, and nail our grosser selves,
Our tempers, greeds and our unworthy aims
Upon the cross.

THE CREED

Whoever was begotten by pure love,
And came desired and welcomed into life,
Is of immaculate conception. He
Whose heart is full of tenderness and truth,
Who loves mankind more than he loves himself
And cannot find room in his heart for hate,
May be another Christ. We all may be
The Saviours of the world, if we believe
In the Divinity which dwells in us,
And worship it, and nail our grosser selves,
Our tempers, greeds, and our unworthy aims,
Upon the cross. Who giveth love to all
Pays kindness for unkindness, smiles for frowns,
And lends new courage to each fainting heart,
And strengthens hope and scatters joy abroad,
He too is a Redeemer, Son of God.

Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917

9th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Be glad and your friends are many;
Be sad and you lose them all--
There are none to decline your nectar'd wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

SOLITUDE

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth
Must borrow it's mirth,
It has trouble enough of it's own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound
To a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure
Of all your pleasure,
But they do not want your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all;
There are none to decline
Your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by;
Succeed and give,
And it helps you live,
But it cannot help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train;
But one by one
We must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Kingdom of love and How Salvator won by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago, W.B. Conkey company [1902].

10th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

We must change ourselves before we can change
material conditions; we must heal our own thoughts
and make them sane and normal before we can heal
bodily disease in others.

Self Conquest

very New Idea of supposed New
Idea, is a light which attracts the
moths.
The "New Thought" is no ex-
ception.
About it flutter hysterical wo-
men, unbalanced men: the erratic and the irre-
sponsible.
The possibilities of performing miracles, of
healing the sick, hypnotizing the well, trans-
forming poverty into wealth, and changing age
to youth, are the rays of light which flicker
through the darkness and draw them into the
circle of radiance.
The self-indulgent fat woman subscribes to
New Thought literature, pays for a course of
lectures, and goes forth into the ranks of the
unbelievers, proclaiming her power to become a
sylph, and to cause others to become sylphs.
The extravagant and inconsiderate rush forth
after having heard a discourse upon the power
of mind over matter, and declare that they
possess the secret of accumulating a fortune by
occult means.
The lovers of the marvelous believe that they
will become great healers in a brief space of time.
Not one of these moth converts realizes that
the very first step to take in the direction of
"New Thought" is self-conquest.
The gourmand does not know that self-indul-
gence and a gross appetite are incompatible with
mental or spiritual growth, and will be insur-
mountable obstacles in her path toward symmetry.
The spendthrift does not take into considera-
tion the fact that good sense, thrift and industry,
must aid his mental assertion of wealth, and the
miracle lover does not understand that some-
thing greater and more difficult is required than
a mere wish to heal before healing powers can
be obtained.
That the physical body and material condi-
tions can be dominated by the divine spirit in
man, is an incontrovertible fact.
But first, last and always, the lesser self must
be subjugated, and the weak and unworthy
qualities overcome.
The woman who desires to reduce her flesh
cannot do so by reading occult literature, or
joining mystic circles, or attending lectures,
unless she permeates herself so thoroughly
with spiritual truths that she no longer craves six
courses at dinner, and three meals a day, and
unless she overcomes her dislike for exercise.
The man who wishes to control circum-
stances must love better things than money
before he can succeed. He must love, and
respect, and believe in his Creator, and trust the
Divine Man within himself, and he must illust-
rate this love and trust by his daily conduct, and
in his home circle, and in his business relations.
Once in a century, perhaps, is a man born with
great powers already developed to heal the sick,
or to do other seeming miracles. Such beings
are old souls, who have obtained diplomas in
former lives; but the majority of us are still in
school, and we cannot become "seniors" until we
pass through the lower grades.
We must change ourselves before we can
change material conditions; we must heal our
own thoughts and make them sane and normal,
before we can heal bodily disease in others.
It is not an immediate process. I have heard
an old lady declare that she "got religion" in
the twinkling of an eye, and she believed all
people would be damned and burn in hell fire,
who did not pass through this sudden illumina-
tion.
It is possible that the religion which can wor-
ship a God cruel enough to burn his children in
fire, can only be obtained in the twinkling of an
eye; but the reverent, wholesome, and beautiful
religion of "New Thought" must be grown into
little by little, through patience, faith, and
practice.
All that it claims to do it can do, but not
instantaneously, not rapidly. We must first
make ourselves over; after absolute control of
our minds has been obtained, then, and only then,
may we hope to influence circumstances and
health.

The Heart of the New Thought by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago : The Psychic Research Company, c1902

11th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Yet is there one more kingdom to explore.
Go, know thyself, O man! there yet remains
The undiscovered country of thy soul.

THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY

Man has explored all countries and all lands,
And made his own the secrets of each clime.
Now, ere the world has fully reached its prime,
The oval earth lies compassed with steel bands,
The seas are slaves to ships that touch all strands,
And even the haughty elements sublime
And bold, yield him their secrets for all time,
And speed like lackeys forth at his commands.

Still, though he search from shore to distant shore,
And no strange realms, no unlocated plains
Are left for his attainment and control,
Yet is there one more kingdom to explore.
Go, know thyself, O man! there yet remains
The undiscovered country of thy soul!

Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago : W. B. Conkey, 1902

12th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Our lives are songs, God writes the words,
And we set them to music at pleasure;
And the song grows glad, or sweet, or sad,
As we choose to fashion the measure.

Our Lives

Our lives are songs. God writes the words,
And we set them to music at pleasure;
And the song grows glad, or sweet, or sad,
As we choose to fashion the measure.

We must write the music, whatever the song,
Whatever its rhyme, or metre;
And if it is sad, we can make it glad,
Or if sweet, we can make it sweeter.

One has a song that is free and strong;
But the music he writes is minor;
And the sad, sad strain is replete with pain,
And the singer becomes a repiner.

And he thinks God gave him a dirge-like lay,
Nor knows the words are cheery;
And the song seems lonely and solemn--only
Because the music is dreary.

And the song of another has through the words
An under current of sadness;
But he sets it to music of ringing chords,
And makes it a pean of gladness.

So whether our songs are sad or not,
We can give the world more pleasure,
And better ourselves, by setting the words
To a glad, triumphant measure.

1872.

Shells by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Milwaukee: Hauser & Storey, 1873

13th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

To be able to enjoy heaven, one must learn first to
enjoy earth.

Eternity

o you know what a wonderfully com-
plicated thing a human being is?
Every feature, every portion of your
body, every motion you make
reflects your mental organization.
I know a woman past middle
life who has always been on the opposite side of
every question discussed in her presence.
She was agnostic with the orthodox, reverential
with atheists, liberal with the narrow, bigoted
with the liberal.
Whatever belief any one expressed on any
subject, she invariable took the other extreme.
She loved to disagree with her fellow-men. It
was her pastime.
Now, to walk with that woman in silence is
merely to carry on a wordless argument.
You cannot regulate your steps so they will
harmonize with hers. She will be just ahead
or just behind you, and if you want to turn to
the left, she pulls to the right. A promenade
with her is more exhausting than a day's labor.
She is not conscious of it, and would think
anyone very unreasonable and unjust who told
her of her peculiarities.
I know a woman who all her life has been
looking afar for happiness and peace and content,
and has never found any of them, because she did
not look in her own soul.
She was a restless girl, and she married, believ-
ing in domestic life lay the goal of her dreams.
But she was not happy there, and sighed for
freedom. She wanted to move, and did move,
once, twice, thrice, to different points of the
United States. She was discontented with each
change. She is to-day possessed of all comforts
and luxuries which life can afford, yet she is the
same restless soul. She likes to read, but it is
always the book which she does not possess which
she craves. If she is in the library with shelves
book-filled, she goes into the garret and hunts in
old boxes for a book or a paper which has been
cast aside.
If she is in a picture gallery, she wants to go
to the window and look out on the street, but
when she is on the street it bores her, and she
longs to go in the house.
If a member of the family is absent, she gets
no enjoyment out of the society of those at home;
yet when that absent one returns her mind strays
elsewhere, seeking some imagined happiness not
found here.
I wonder if such souls ever find it, even in the
spirit realm, or if they go on there seeking and
always seeking something just beyond. It is a
great gift to learn to enjoy the present--to get
all there is out of it, and to think of to-day as a
piece of eternity. Begin now to teach yourself
this great art if you have not thought of it
before. To be able to enjoy heaven, one must
learn first to enjoy earth.

The Heart of the New Thought by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago : The Psychic Research Company, c1902

14th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Begin each morning with a thought of God
And ask for your divine inheritance
Of usefulness, contentment and success.
Resign all fear, all doubt and all despair.

BEGIN THE DAY

Begin each morning with a talk to God,
And ask for your divine inheritance
Of usefulness, contentment and success.
Resign all fear, all doubt, and all despair.
The stars doubt not, and they are undismayed,
Though whirled through space for countless centuries,
And told not why or wherefore: and the sea
With everlasting ebb and flow obeys,
And leaves the purpose with the unseen Cause.
The star sheds radiance on a million worlds,
The sea is prodigal with waves, and yet
No luster from the star is lost, and not
One drop is missing from the ocean tides.
Oh, brother to the star and sea, know all
God's opulence is held in trust for those
Who wait serenely and who work in faith.

Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago : W. B. Conkey, 1902

15th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Do not sit down by the roadside and say you have
been hindered by difficulties; that is to confess your-
self weak.

Obstacles.

owever great the obstacles between
you and your goal may be or have
been, do not lay the blame of your
failure upon them.
Other people have succeeded in
overcoming just as great obstacles.
Remove such hindrances from the path for
others, if you can, or tell them a way to go
around. Even lead them a little distance and
cheer them on.
But so far as you yourself are concerned, do
not stop to excuse any delinquency or half-
heartedness or defeat by the plea of circumstance
or environment.
The great nature makes its own environ-
ment, and dominates circumstance.
It all depends upon the amount of force in
your own soul.
While you apply this rule to yourself and
make no scapegoat of "fate," you must have
consideration for the weakness of others, and
you must try and better the conditions of the
world as you go along.
You are robust and possessed of all your
limbs. You can mount over the great boulder
which has fallen in the road to success, and go
on your way to your goal all the stronger for
the experience.
But behind you comes a one-legged man--
a blind man--a man bowed to the earth with
a heavy burden, which he cannot lay down.
It will require weeks, months, years of effort
on their part to climb over that rock which you
surmounted in a few hours.
So it is right and just for you to call other
strong ones to your aid and roll the boulder
away or blast it out of the path.
That is just exactly the way you should think
of the present industrial conditions.
In spite of them, the strong, well-poised,
earnest and determined soul can reach any
desired success.
But there are boulders in the road which do
not belong there, boulders which cause hun-
dreds of the pilgrims who are lame or blind or
burdened, to fall by the wayside and perish.
It is your duty to aid in removing these
obstacles and in making the road a safe and clear
thoroughfare for all who journey.
Do not sit down by the roadside and say you
have been hindered by these difficulties, that is
to confess yourself weak.
Do not mount over them and rush to your
goal and say coldly to the throngs behind you,
"Oh, everybody can climb over that rock who
really tries--didn't I?" That is to announce
yourself selfish and unsympathetic.
No doubt the lame, the blind and the
burdened could attain the goal despite the rocks
if they were fired by a consciousness of the
divine force within them; that consciousness
can achieve all things under all circumstances.
But there will always be thousands of pil-
grims toiling wearily toward the goal who have
not come to this realization.
If there are unjust, unfair and unkind re-
strictions placed about them, see to it that you
do all in your power to right what is wrong.
But never wait to attain your own success
because of these restrictions or obstacles.
Believe absolutely in your own God-given
power to overcome anything and everything.
Think of yourself as performing miracles
with God's aid.
Desire success so intensely that you attract
it as the magnet attracts the steel.
Help to adjust things as you go along, but
never for a moment believe that the lack of
adjustment can cause you to fail.

The Heart of the New Thought by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago : The Psychic Research Company, c1902

16th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Faith is not dead, tho' priest and creed may pass,
For thought has leavened the whole unthinking mass;
And man looks now to find the God within.
We shall talk more of love and less of sin
In this new era

THE MEETING OF THE CENTURIES

A curious vision, on mine eyes unfurled
In the deep night. I saw, or seemed to see,
Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-a-vis,
Across the great round table of the world.
One with suggested sorrows in his mien
And on his brow the furrowed lines of thought.
And one whose glad expectant presence brought
A glow and radiance from the realms unseen.

Hand clasped with hand, in silence for a space,
The Centuries sat; the sad old eyes of one
(As grave paternal eyes regard a son)
Gazing upon that other eager face.
And then a voice, as cadenceless and gray
As the sea's moody in winter time,
Mingled with tones melodious as the chime
Of bird choirs, singing in the dawns of May.

THE OLD CENTURY SPEAKS:

By you, Hope stands. With me, Experience walks.
Like a fair jewel in a faded box,
In my tear-rusted heart, sweet pity lies.
For all the dreams that look forth from your eyes,
And those bright-hued ambitions, which I know
Must fall like leaves and perish in Time's snow,
(Even as my soul's garden stands bereft,)
I give you pity! 'tis the one gift left.

THE NEW CENTURY:

Nay, nay, good friend! not pity, but Godspeed,
Here in the morning of my life I need.
Counsel, and not condolence; smiles, not tears,
To guide me through the channels of the years.
Oh, I am blinded by the blaze of light
That shines upon me from the Infinite.
Blurred is my vision by the close approach
To unseen shores, whereon the times encroach.

THE OLD CENTURY:

Illusion, all illusion. List and hear
The Godless cannons, booming far and near.
Flaunting the flag of Unbelief, with Greed
For pilot, lo! the pirate age in speed
Bears on to ruin. War's most hideous crimes
Besmirch the record of these modern times.
Degenerate is the world I leave to you--
My happiest speech to earth will be--adieu.

THE NEW CENTURY:

You speak as one too weary to be just.
I hear the guns--I see the greed and lust.
The death throes of a giant evil fill
The air with riot and confusion. Ill
Ofttimes makes fallow ground for Good; and Wrong
Builds Right's foundation, when it grows too strong.
Pregnant with promise is the hour, and grand
The trust you leave in my all-willing hand.

THE OLD CENTURY:

As one who throws a flickering taper's ray
To light departing feet, my shadowed way
You brighten with your faith. Faith makes the man.
Alas! that my poor foolish age outran
Its early trust in God. The death of art
And progress follows, when the world's hard heart
Casts out religion. 'Tis the human brain
Men worship now, and heaven, to them, means--gain.

THE NEW CENTURY:

Faith is not dead, tho' priest and creed may pass,
For thought has leavened the whole unthinking mass.
And man looks now to find the God within.
We shall talk more of love, and less of sin,
In this new era. We are drawing near
Unatlassed boundaries of a larger sphere.
With awe, I wait, till Science leads us on,
Into the full effulgence of its dawn.

Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago : W. B. Conkey, 1902.

17th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

I know not whence I came,
I know not whither I go;
But the fact stands clear that I am here
In this world of pleasure and woe.
And out of the mist and murk
Another truth shines plain--
It is in my power each day and hour
To add to its joy or its pain

I AM

I know not whence I came,
I know not whither I go;
But the fact stands clear that I am here
In this world of pleasure and woe.
And out of the mist and murk
Another truth shines plain--
It is my power each day and hour
To add to its joy or its pain.

I know that the earth exists,
It is none of my business why;
I cannot find out what it's all about,
I would but waste time to try.
My life is a brief, brief thing,
I am here for a little space,
And while I stay I would like, if I may,
To brighten and better the place.

The trouble, I think, with us all
Is the lack of a high conceit.
If each man thought he was sent to this spot
To make it a bit more sweet,
How soon we could gladden the world,
How easily right all wrong,
If nobody shirked, and each one worked
To help his fellows along.

Cease wondering why you came--
Stop looking for faults and flaws.
Rise up to-day in your pride and say,
"I am part of the First Great Cause!
However full the world,
There is room for an earnest man.
It had need of me or I would not be--
I am here to strengthen the plan."

Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago : W. B. Conkey, 1902

18th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

          Oh, idle heart, beware!
            On to the field of strife!
          On to the valley there,
            And live a useful life.
          Up! Do not wait a day,
For the old brown clock
with its tick, tick, tock,
           Is ticking your life away.

IDLE

I sit in the twilight dim,
At the close of an idle day,
And list to the sweet, soft hymn
That rises far away
And dies on the evening air.
Oh all day long they sing their song
Who toil in the valley there.

But never a song sing I,
Sitting with folded hands.
The hours pass me by,
Dropping their golden sands.
And I list from day to day
To the tick, tick, tock, of the old brown clock
Ticking my life away.

And I see the sunlight fade,
And I see the night come on;
And then, in the gloom and shade,
I weep for the day that is gone.
Weep, and wail, in pain,
For the misspent day that has flown away
And will not come again.

Another morning beams,
But I forget the last,
And sit in my idle dreams
Till the day is overpast.
Oh the toiler's heart is glad
When the day is gone and the night comes on,
But mine is sore, and sad.

For I dare not look behind:
No shining, golden sheaves
Can I ever hope to find --
Nothing but withered leaves.
Ah! dreams are very sweet!
But will it please if only these
I lay at the Master's feet.

And what will the Master say,
To dreams and nothing more?
Oh idler all the day!
Think, ere thy life is o'er!
And when the day grows late,
Oh soul of sin, will He let you in
There at the pearly gate?

Oh idle heart beware!
On, to the field of strife!
On to the valley there,
And live a useful life.
Up! do not wait a day,
For the old brown clock, with its tick, tick, tock,
Is ticking your life away.

1869.

Shells by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Milwaukee: Hauser & Storey, 1873

19th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

If you have faith in God, or man, or self,
Say so; if not, push back upon the shelf
Of silence all your thoughts till faith shall come.
No one will grieve because your lips are dumb

SPEECH

Talk happiness. The world is sad enough
Without your woe. No path is wholly rough.
Look for the places that are smooth and clear,
And speak of them to rest the weary ear
Of earth; so hurt by one continuous strain
Of mortal discontent and grief and pain.

Talk faith. The world is better off without
Your uttered ignorance and morbid doubt.
If you have faith in God, or man, or self,
Say so; if not, push back upon the shelf
Of silence, all your thoughts till faith shall come.
No one will grieve because your lips are dumb

Talk health. The dreary, never-ending tale
Of mortal maladies is worn and stale;
You cannot charm or interest or please
By harping on that minor chord, disease.
Say you are well, or all is well with you,
And God shall hear your words and make them true.

Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago : W. B. Conkey, 1902

20th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Our love wakes with the morning, unafraid
To meet the little worries of the day.
And if a haggard dawn, dull-eyed and gray,
Peers in upon us through the window shade,
Full soon Love's finger, rosy-tipped, is laid
Upon its brow, and gloom departs straightway

THREEFOLD I.

Our love wakes with the morning, unafraid
To meet the little worries of the day.
And if a haggard dawn, dull eyed and gray,
Peers in upon us through the window shade,
Full soon love's finger, rosy tipped, is laid
Upon its brow, and gloom departs straightway.
All outer darkness melts before that ray
Of inner light, whereof our love is made,
Each petty trouble and each pigmy care
And those gaunt visaged duties which so fill
Life's path by day, do borrow of love's grace.
Though he be dear alway, and debonaire
In the bright morning best he proves his skill
Lending his lustre to the Commonplace.

II.

Our love looks boldly in the moon's bold eyes.
He has no thing to hide, no thing to fear.
And if the world stands far or hurtles near
He walks alway, serene, without disguise,
Naked and not ashamed beneath the skies.
He does not need dark backgrounds to appear
Radiant, for even through the broad day's clear
Effulgence his supernal beauties rise.
Oh, there be loves that hide till day is done:
Nocturnal loves, like silent birds of prey:
Secretive loves that do not dare rejoice.
Ours is an eagle that can face the sun.
A wholesome love that glories in the day,
And finds a rapture in its own glad voice.

III.

Our love augments in beauty when the night
Shuts in our world between four sheltering walls.
Fair is the day and yet its splendor palls.
Dear are the shadows that obscure the light,
And dear the stars that tiptoe into sight,
And when the curtain of deep darkness falls
Then heart to heart in clearer accent calls
And the whole Universe is Love's by right.
There is no vexing world to interfere,
No sorrow save the all too rapid flow
Of time's swift river sweeping on and on.
We two are masters of this silent sphere.
Love is the only duty that we know--
Our only fear, the menace of the dawn.

Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago : W. B. Conkey, 1902

21st ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

With every rising of the sun
Think of your life as just begun.
The past has shrived and buried deep
All yesterdays--there let them sleep

YOU AND TO-DAY

With every rising of the sun
Think of your life as just begun.

The past has shrived and buried deep
All yesterdays--there let them sleep.

Nor seek to summon back one ghost
Of that innumerable host.

Concern yourself with but to-day.
Woo it and teach it to obey,

Your wish and will. Since time began
To-day has been the friend of man.

But in his blindness and his sorrow
He looks to yesterday and to-morrow.

You and to-day! a soul sublime
And the great pregnant hour of time.

With God between to bind the train--
Go forth I say--attain--attain

Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago : W. B. Conkey, 1902

22nd ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

You have life all before you; the past--let it sleep;
Its lessons alone are the things you should keep

Maurice:

   You are right in a measure; the devil I hold
   Is oftener found in full coffers of gold
   Than in bare, empty larders. The soul, it is plain,
   Needs the conflicts of earth, needs the stress and the strain
   Of misfortune, to bring out its strength in this life--
   The Soul's calisthenics are sorrow and strife.
   But, Roger, what folly to stand in youth's prime
   And talk like a man who could father old Time.
   You have life all before you; the past,--let it sleep;
   Its lessons alone are the things you should keep.
   There is virtue sometimes in our follies and sinnings;
   Right lives very often have faulty beginnings.
   Results, and not causes, are what we should measure.
   You have learned precious truths in your search after pleasure.
   You have learned that a glow worm is never a star,
   You have learned that Peace builds not her temples afar.
   And now, dispossessed of the spirit to roam,
   You are finely equipped to establish a home.
   That's the one thing you need to lend savor to life,
   A home, and the love of a sweet hearted wife,
   And children to gladden the path to old age.

Three Women. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox. Chicago; New York: W.B. Conkey Company, publishers, 1897.

23rd ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

If you have groveled in fear and a belief that you
were born to poverty and failure, courage and success
and opulence will be of slow growth. Yet they will
grow and materialize, as surely as you insist and
persist in affirming them yours

The Sowing of the Seed

hen you start in the "New Thought"
do not expect sudden illumination.
Do not imagine that you are to
become perfectly well, perfectly
cheerful, successful, and a healer,
in a few days.
Remember all growth is slow.
Mushrooms spring up in a night, but oaks
grow with deliberation and endure for centuries.
Mental and spiritual power must be gained
by degrees.
If you attained maturity before you entered
this field of "New Thought" it is folly to suppose
a complete transformation of your whole being
will take place in a week--a month--or a year.
All you can reasonably look for is a gradual
improvement, just as you might do if you were
attempting to take up music or a science.
The New Thought is a science, the Science
of Right Thinking. But the brain cells which
have been shaped by the old thoughts of despond-
ency and fear, cannot all at once be reformed.
It will be a case of "Try, try again."
Make your daily assertions, "I am love, health,
wisdom, cheerfulness, power for good, prosperity,
success, usefulness, opulence."
Never fail to assert these things at least twice
a day; twenty times is better. But if you do not
attain to all immediately, if your life does not
at once exemplify your words, let it not discour-
age you.
The saying of the words is the watering of
the seeds.
After a time they will begin to sprout, after
a longer time to cover the barren earth with
grain, after a still longer time to yield a harvest.
If you have been accustomed to feeling prej-
udices and dislikes easily, you will not all at
once find it easy to illustrate your assertion, "I
am love." If you have indulged yourself in
thoughts of disease, the old aches and pains will
intrude even while you say "I am health!"
If you have groveled in fear and a belief that
you were born to poverty and failure, courage
and success and opulence will be of slow growth.
Yet they will grow and materialize, as surely as
you insist and persist.
Declare they are yours, right in the face of
the worst disasters. There is nothing so confuses
and flustrates misfortune as to stare it down with
hopeful unflinching eyes.
If you waken some morning in the depths of
despondency and gloom, do not say to yourself:
"I may as well give up this effort to adopt the
New Thought--I have made a failure of it evi-
dently---." Instead sit down quietly, and as-
sert calmly that you are cheerfulness, hope, cour-
age, faith and success.
Realize that your despondency is only tem-
porary; and an old habit, which is reasserting it-
self, but over which you will gradually gain
the ascendency. Then go forth into the world
and busy yourself in some useful occupation, and
before you know it is on the way, hope will creep
into your heart, and the grey cloud will lift from
your mind. Physical pains will loosen their hold,
and conditions of poverty will change to prosperity.
Your mind is your own to educate and direct.
You can do it by the aid of the Spirit, but
you must be satisfied to work slowly.
Be patient and persistent.

The Heart of the New Thought by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago : The Psychic Research Company, c1902

24th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

The world cries for workers; not toilers for pelf,
But souls who have sought to eliminate self.
Can the lame lead the race? Can the blind guide the blind?
We must better ourselves ere we better our kind

XII. Maurice's Letter to Ruth:

No, no. I have gambled with destiny twice,
And have staked my whole hopes on a home; but the dice
Thrown by Fate made me loser. Henceforward, I know
My lot must be homeless. The gods will it so.

I fought, I rebelled; I was bitter. I strove
To outwit the great Cosmic Forces, above,
Or beyond, or about us, who guide and control
The course of all things from the moat to the soul.

The river may envy the peace of the pond,
But law drives it out to the ocean beyond.
If it roars down abysses, or laughs through the land,
It follows the way which the Forces have planned.

So man is directed. His only the choice
To help or to hinder--to weep or rejoice.
But vain is refusal--and vain discontent,
For at last he must walk in the way that was meant.

My way leads through shadow, alone to the end
I must work out my karma, and follow its trend.
I must fulfill the purpose, whatever it be,
And look not for peace till I merge in God's sea.

Though bankrupt in joy, still my life has its gain;
I have climbed the last round in the ladder of pain.
There is nothing to dread. I have drained sorrow's cup
And can laugh as I fling it at Fate bottom up.

I have missed what I sought; yet I missed not the whole.
The best part of love is in loving. My soul
Is enriched by its prodigal gifts. Still, to give
And to ask no return, is my lot while I live.

Such love may be blindness, but where are love's eyes?
Such love may be folly, love seldom is wise.
Such love may be madness, was love ever sane?
Such love must be sorrow, for all love is pain.

Love goes where it must go, and in its own season.
Love cannot be banished by will or by reason.
Love gave back your freedom, it keeps me its slave.
I shall walk in its fetters, unloved, to my grave.

So be it. What right has the ant, in the dust,
To cry that the world is all wrong, and unjust,
Because the swift foot of a messenger trod
Down the home, and the hopes, that were built in the sod?

What is man but an ant, in this universe scheme?
Though dear his ambition, and precious his dream,
God's messengers speed all unseen on their way,
And the plans of a lifetime go down in a day

No matter. The aim of the Infinite mind,
Which lies back of it all, must be great, must be kind.
Can the ant or the man, though ingenious and wise,
Swing the tides of the sea--set a star in the skies?

Can man fling a million of worlds into space,
To whirl on their orbits with system and grace?
Can he color a sunset, or create a seed,
Or fashion one leaf of the commonest weed?

Can man summon daylight, or bid the night fall?
Then how dare he question the Force which does all?
Where so much is flawless, where so much is grand,
All, all must be right, could our souls understand.

Ah, man, the poor egotist! Think with what pride
He boasts his small knowledge of star and of tide.
But when fortune fails him, or when a hope dies,
The Maker of stars and of seas he denies!

I questioned, I doubted. But that is all past;
I have learned the true secret of living at last.
It is, to accept what Fate sends, and to know
That the one thing God wishes of man--is to grow.

Growth, growth out of self, back to him--the First Cause:
Therein lies the purpose, the law of all laws.
Tears, grief, disappointment, well, what are all these
To the Builder of stars and the Maker of seas?

Does the star long to shine, when He tells it to set,
As the heart would remember when told to forget?
Does the sea moan for flood tide, when bid to be low,
As a soul cries for pleasure when given life's woe?

In the Antarctic regions a volcano glows,
While low at its base lie the up-reaching snows.
With patient persistence they steadily climb,
And the flame will be quenched in the passage of time.

My heart is the crater, my will is the snow,
Which yet may extinguish its volcanic glow.
When self is once conquered, the end comes to pain,
And that is the goal which I seek to attain.

I seek it in work, heaven planned, heaven sent;
In the kingdom of toil waits the crown of content.
Work, work! ah, how high and divine was its birth,
When God, the first laborer, fashioned the earth.

There are wrongs to be righted; and first of them all,
Is to lift up the leaners from Charity's thrall.
Sweet, wisdomless Charity, sowing the seed
Which it seeks to uproot, of dependence and need.

For vain is the effort to give man content
By clothing his body, by paying his rent.
The garment re-tatters, the rent day recurs;
Who seeks to serve God by such charity errs.

Give light to the spirit, give strength to the mind,
And the body soon cares for itself, you will find.
First, faith in God's wisdom, then purpose and will,
And, like mist before sunlight, shall vanish each ill.

To the far realm of Wisdom there lies a short way.
To find it we need but the password--Obey.
Obey like the acorn that falls to the sod,
To rise, through the heart of the oak tree, to God.

Though slow be the rising, and distant the goal,
Serenity waits at the end for each soul.
I seek it. Not backward, but onward I go,
And since sorrow means growth, I will welcome my woe.

In the ladder of lives we are given to climb,
Each life counts for only a second of time.
The one thing to do in the brief little space,
Is to make the world glad that we ran in the race.

No soul should be sad whom the Maker deemed worth
The great gift of song as its dower at birth.
While I pass on my way, an invisible throng
Breathes low in my ear the new note of a song.

So I am not alone; for by night and by day
These mystical messengers people my way.
They bid me to hearken, they bid me be dumb
And to wait for the true inspiration to come.

Around the year with Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago, W.B. Conkey Co., c1904.
Compiled by Ella Giles Ruddy

THE END

25th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

The world no longer looks to priest
Or prince to know its needs;
Earth's human throng has grown too strong
To rule with courts and creeds

A SONG OF REPUBLICS

Fair Freedom's ship, too long adrift--
Of every wind the sport--
Now rigged and manned, her course well planned
Sails proudly out of port;
And fluttering gaily from the mast
This motto is unfurled,
Let all men heed its truth who read:
"Republics Rule the World!"

The universe is high as God!
Good is the final goal;
The world revolves and man evolves
A purpose and a soul.
No church can bind, no crown forbid
Thought's mighty upward course--
Let kings give way before its sway,
For God inspires its force.

The hero of a vanished age
Was one who bathed in gore;
Who best could fight was noblest knight
In savage days of yore;
Now warrior chiefs are out of date,
The times have changed. To-day
We call men great who arbitrate
And keep war's hounds at bay.

The world no longer looks to priest
Or prince to know its needs;
Earth's human throng has grown too strong
To rule with courts and creeds.
We want no kings but kings of toil--
No crowns but crowns of deeds.
Not royal birth but sterling worth
Must mark the man who leads.

Proud monarchies are out of step
With modern thought to-day,
For Brotherhood is understood
And thrones must pass away.
Men dare to think. Concerted thought
Contains more power than swords:
The force that binds united minds
Defeats mere savage hordes.

Man needs no arbitrary hand
To keep him in control,
He feels the power grow hour by hour
Of his expanding soul;
In God's stupendous scheme of worlds,
He knows he has a place.
He is no slave to cringe, and crave
Some worthless monarch's grace.

As ocean billows undermine
The haughty shores each hour,
Time's sea has brought its waves of thought
To crumble thrones of power;
And one by one shall kingdoms fall
Like leaves before the blast,
As man with man combines to plan
Republics formed to last.

Columbia balked a tyrant king,
And built upon a rock,
In Freedom's name, a shrine whose fame
Outlived the century's shock.
Now France within our port has set
Her symbol of re-birth.
Her lifted hand tells sea and land,
Republics light the earth.

One mighty church for all the world
Would make men far more kind.
One government would bring content
To many a restless mind.
Sail on, fair ship of Freedom, sail
The wide sea's breadth and length.
'Till worlds unite to make the might
Of "One Republic's" strength.

Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906

26th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

Don't waste a curse on the universe,
Remember it lived before you;
Don't butt at the storm with your puny form,
But bend and let it go o'er you.

AS YOU GO THROUGH LIFE

Don't look for the flaws as you go through life;
And even when you find them,
It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind
And look for the virtue behind them.
For the cloudiest night has a hint of light
Somewhere in its shadows hiding;
It is better by far to hunt for a star,
Than the spots on the sun abiding.

The current of life runs ever away
To the bosom of God's great ocean.
Don't set your force 'gainst the river's course
And think to alter its motion.
Don't waste a curse on the universe--
Remember it lived before you.
Don't butt at the storm with your puny form,
But bend and let it go o'er you.

The world will never adjust itself
To suit your whims to the letter.
Some things must go wrong your whole life long,
And the sooner you know it the better.
It is folly to fight with the Infinite,
And go under at last in the wrestle;
The wiser man shapes into God's plan
As water shapes into a vessel.

Kingdom of love and How Salvator won by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago, W.B. Conkey company [1902]

27th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

As we toil on, through trouble and pain
There are hands that will shelter and feed,
But once let us dare to attain --
They will bruise our bare hearts till they bleed.
'Tis the worst of all crimes to succeed.
Know this as ye feast on a crust,
Know this in the darkness and dust,
Ye who climb

SUCCESS

As we gaze up life's slope, as we gaze
In the morn, ere the dewdrops are dry,
What splendor hangs over the ways,
What glory gleams there in the sky;
What pleasures seem waiting us, high
On the peak of that beauteous slope,
What rainbow-hued colors of hope
As we gaze.

As we climb up the hill, as we climb,
Our hearts, our illusions, are rent:
For Fate, who is spouse of old Time,
Is jealous of youth and content.
With brows that are brooding and bent,
She shadows our sunlight of gold,
And the way grows lonely and cold
As we climb.

As we toil on, through trouble and pain,
There are hands that will shelter and feed:
But once let us dare to attain --
They will bruise our bare hearts till they bleed.
'Tis the worst of all crimes to succeed,
Know this as ye feast on a crust,
Know this in the darkness and dust,
Ye who climb.

As we stand on the heights of success,
Lo! success seems as sad as defeat!
Through the lives we may succor and bless
Alone may its bitter turn sweet;
And the world lying there at our feet,
With its cavilling praise and its sneer,
We must pity, condone, but not hear,
Where we stand.

As we live on those heights, we must live
With the courage and pride of a god;
For the world, it has nothing to give
But the scourge of the lash and the rod.
Our thoughts must be noble and broad,
Our purpose must challenge men's gaze,
While we seek not their blame or their praise
As we live.

Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906

28th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

My noonday skies are far more bright
Than those dreamed of in morning's light,
And life gives me more joys to hold
Than all it promised me of old.

REALIZATION

(At the Old Homestead.)

I tread the paths of earlier times
Where all my steps were set to rhymes.

I gaze on scenes I used to see
When dreaming of a vague To be.

I walk in ways made bright of old
By hopes youth-limned in hues of gold.

But lo! those hopes of future bliss
Seem dull beside the joy that is .

My noonday skies are far more bright
Than those dreamed of in morning's light,

And life gives me more joys to hold
Than all it promised me of old.

Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906

29th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

The more I give, the more remains for giving,
The more receive, the more remains to win.
Ah! only in eternities of living
Will life be long enough to love thee in

LOVE'S SUPREMACY

As yon great Sun in his supreme condition
Absorbs small worlds and makes them all his own,
So does my love absorb each vain ambition
Each outside purpose which my life has known.
Stars cannot shine so near that vast orb's splendor,
They are content to feed his flames of fire;
And so my heart is satisfied to render
Its strength, its all, to meet thy strong desire.

As in a forest when dead leaves are falling,
From all save some perennial green tree,
So one by one I find all pleasures palling
That are not linked with or enjoyed by thee.
And all the homage that the world may proffer,
I take as perfumed oils or incense sweet,
And think of it as one thing more to offer
And sacrifice to Love, at thy dear feet.

I love myself because thou art my lover,
My name seems dear since uttered by thy voice;
Yet argus-eyed I watch and would discover
Each blemish in the object of thy choice.
I coldly sit in judgment on each error,
To my soul's gaze I hold each fault of me,
Until my pride is lost in abject terror,
Lest I become inadequate to thee.

Like some swift-rushing and sea-seeking river,
Which gathers force the farther on it goes,
So does the current of my love forever
Find added strength and beauty as it flows.
The more I give, the more remains for giving,
The more receive, the more remains to win.
Ah! only in eternities of living
Will life be long enough to love thee in.

Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906.

30th ~ Go to the Ella's DivineJournal.com page

I love myself because thou art my lover,
My name seems dear since uttered by thy voice;
Yet Argus-eyed I watch and would discover
Each blemish in the object of thy choice

LOVE'S SUPREMACY

Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906

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