I' LL breathe a prayer for thee, my friend;
And frown not if the boon I crave
Be not what with thy wish may blend,
But what I think 'twere best to have.

I will not seek thy greatest dower
Be glittering heaps of precious gold;
Nor yet the dangerous gift of power:
The heart oft in her grasp grows cold.

Nor would I wish thee e'er to be
The lauded among worldly men;
Nought charms the soul like flattery,
And man is weak when he is vain.

But I would have thee great of soul
Among the noblest sons of earth;
And, as the years still onward roll,
Increasing still thy store of worth.

Thy simplest act a thing sublime,
Above all meanness and all strife;
And marching to the shores of time
With a bright halo round thy life.

Be lofty, friend! Be never thine
The pleasures that must leave a sting;
But freely drink the glorious wine
The virtues from life's vintage wring.

A king of men, above all blame,
Who'll follow good though it be odd,
Who counts that sin's the only shame,
And bends his soul to none but God.

A man in all the hidden sense
That gives the grand old word its might;
A man who finds his recompense
In knowing he has done the right.

Thus would I wish thee, day by day,
Thy soul in beauty still to grow,
And dwell, when life shall pass away,
Where streams of joy will endless flow.