  Why should our tears fall down? And why should the heart sink low? And why should our courage fail When adversity’s chill winds blow? Bow not thy head, my brother, Though slander’s poisonous dart, Hurled by an assassin hand, Find lodgment in thy heart. And though they strew thy pathway With thorns that wound thy feet, Press bravely on thy journey, Dare thy proud foes to meet. Why should we grieve so, and mourn, When old friends pass us by With cold and averted face, And we heave the weary sigh? Still move on, though sore wounded; Fight thou sternly for the goal; Heed not thy vile traducers; Be firm, thou, and brave of soul. Though all the world should forsake; Though you sink beneath your load, And the heart at last should break. Heed not the stony glances, Nor the cold, sarcastic tone; Press on through storm and darkness, Though you stand on the hills alone. Still fight onward and upward, There are mountains still to climb, And heights to win, my brother, That in grandeur are sublime. Should you fall by the wayside, And never reach the goal, ’Tis brave to die ’mid the struggle, Displaying a hero’s soul. And as you near the sunset Proud peace you may gain at last; When the skies are aflame with glory You may rest from the weary past. |
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