Our Mission

How little we think as we drift along 

With never a smile, a word, or a song,

How many there are who are passing near,

Whose hearts are sore for a word of cheer.

Do you ever think at set of sun,

Of the kindly deeds that you might have done;

How the chances slip, while you stand and wait,

Then the shadows fall and you are too late.

How many a tiny seed is sown,

From which many a might tree has grown;

How many a brooklet, clear and sweet,

Has merged in a river wide and deep.

The rose and lily are sweet and fair

As they scatter their fragrance everywhere;

But the modest violet within the dell,

Though hidden away, plays its part as well.

Then whether the task be great or small,

Let us do our work ere the shadows fall;

So we can say at set of sun,

The work, though heavy, was bravely done.

-       Beth