THE POST OF HONOR.
15
But does our pathway e'er conduct to fame?
The Merchant's honor is his spotless name;
Not circumscribed, just narrowed to the rank
That passes current only at the Bank,
But stamped with soul, howe'er the winds may blow,
Large as the sunlight, and unstained as snow.
Do good by stealth, be just, have faith in man;
The rest to Heaven, God always in the van,—
Though silent deeds may find no tongue to bless
Through the loud trumpet of the public press.
The Merchant's honor is his spotless name;
Not circumscribed, just narrowed to the rank
That passes current only at the Bank,
But stamped with soul, howe'er the winds may blow,
Large as the sunlight, and unstained as snow.
Do good by stealth, be just, have faith in man;
The rest to Heaven, God always in the van,—
Though silent deeds may find no tongue to bless
Through the loud trumpet of the public press.
Honors, 'tis true, from no condition rise,
Stick to your calling, there the profit lies;
What man has sown, just what he reaps denotes,
Expect no pearl-ash from a crop of votes;
Oil and Cochituate never yet would mix;
You can't pay rents and retail politics.
Stick to your calling, there the profit lies;
What man has sown, just what he reaps denotes,
Expect no pearl-ash from a crop of votes;
Oil and Cochituate never yet would mix;
You can't pay rents and retail politics.
Consult your means, avoid the tempter's wiles,
Shun grinning hosts of unreceipted files,
Shun grinning hosts of unreceipted files,
