LET me not deem that I was made in vain,
Or that my being was an accident
Which Fate, in working its sublime intent,
Not wished to be, to hinder would not deign.
Each drop uncounted in a storm of rain
Hath its own mission, and is duly sent
To its own leaf or blade, not idly spent
’Mid myriad dimples on the shipless main.
The very shadow of an insect’s wing,
For which the violet cared not while it stayed,
Yet felt the lighter for its vanishing,
Proved that the sun was shining by its shade.
Then can a drop of the eternal spring,
Shadow of living lights, in vain be made?
THE man without a purpose is like a ship without a rudder: a waif, a nothing a no-man. Have a purpose in life . . . and having it, throw such strength of mind and muscle into thy work as has been given thee.
BE inspired with the belief that life is a great and noble calling; not a mean and grovelling tiling that we are to shuffle through as we can, but an elevated and lofty destiny.
William E. Gladstone