Classic Poem

Great truths are dearly bought. The common truth,
— Such as men give and take from day to day,
Comes in the common walks of easy life,
— Blown by the careless wind across our way.

Bought in the market, at the current price,
— Bred of the smile, the jest, perchance the bowl,
It tells no tale of daring or of worth,
— Nor pierces even the surface of a soul.

Great truths are greatly won. Not found by chance,
— Nor wafted on the breath of summer dream,
But grasped in the great struggle of the soul,
— Hard buffeting with adverse wind and stream.

Not in the general mart, 'mid corn and wine,
— Not in the merchandise of gold and gems,
Not in the world's gay halls of midnight mirth,
— Not 'mid the blaze of regal diadems,

But in the day of conflict, fear, and grief,
— When the strong hand of God, put forth in might,
Plows up the subsoil of the stagnant heart,
— And brings the imprisoned truth-seed to the light.

Wrung from the troubled spirit in hard hours
— Of weakness, solitude, perchance of pain,
Truth springs, like harvest, from the well-plowed field,
— And the soul feels it has not wept in vain.