Choice Specimens of American Literature, and Literary Reader · Chapter 291=371.= the Laborer
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Stand up—erect! Thou hast the form, And likeness of thy God!—who more? A soul as dauntless mid the storm Of daily life, a heart as warm And pure, as breast e'er bore.
What then?—Thou art as true a Man As moves the human mass among; As much a part of the Great plan That with creation's dawn began, As any of the throng.
Who is thine enemy? the high In station, or in wealth the chief? The great, who coldly pass thee by, With proud step and averted eye? Nay! nurse not such belief.
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No:—uncurbed passions—low desires— Absence of noble self-respect— Death, in the breast's consuming fires, To that high Nature which aspires For ever, till thus checked:
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True, wealth thou hast not: 'tis but dust! Nor place; uncertain as the wind! But that thou hast, which, with thy crust And water, may despise the lust Of both—a noble mind.
With this and passions under ban, True faith, and holy trust in God, Thou art the peer of any man. Look up, then—that thy little span Of life, may be well trod!
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=John G. Whittier, 1808-.= (Manual, pp. 490, 522.)