Find Yourself

All men have troubles of their own,


And burdens great to bear each day,


So keep your tales of woe, and frown


At all the ills that come your way:

You need not harbor sorry pain,


And make the world a living hell;


For there is naught in this to gain;


The wisdom of the age will tell.

The other fellow does not care


A bit, what ails and worries you;


In life he has to pay his fare


In living right as you should do:


He bears his burdens like a man,


And smiles with every wind;


There is a reason why he can


Thus master right his soul and mind.

To conscience go in quiet mood.


And find yourself each morn anew;


Feed thou upon the psychic food


That makes the gods in mortal hue:


This is the way that men are great-


All those who smile with Nature’s laws-


So then, why brood and curse your fate?


Brace up and strike against your flaws!

October 26, 1927