Honor (Poem)

Honor
by Henry Beer

The man who makes success of life,
And squanders not his days,

Is quite deserving, seems to me,

Of honor, worth and praise.

But, honor is a subtle word;

If we are not aware,

And do not keep it in its place,

It soon becomes a snare.

There is a bold and slothful bird

Which lays its eggs inside

The nest of other singing birds,

And hatches out with pride.

This lusty bird will eat and grow,

And almost fill the nest,

And crowd the little fledglings out;

They scarce have place to rest.

This honor kept within the heart

Will grow to self-conceit.

And oft will crowd good virtues out,

Our noblest aims defeat.

Full many men of noble worth

Are humble in their ways,

And honor vain they do not seek,

Nor do they covet praise.

And praise will not exalt the just,

Not honor make him vain.

He knows the worth of humbleness,

Which he seeks to retain.

All that I have, all that I am,

All that I hope to be

I do ascribe to Christ, my King,

Who gave me liberty.