the things that count poem

Now, dear, it isn’t the bold things
Great deeds of valor and might.
That count the most in the summing up
of life at the end of the day.
But it is the doing of old things.
Small acts that are just and right.
And doing them over and over again, no matter what others say.
In smiling at fate when you want to cry and
in keeping at work when you want to play-
Dear, those are the things that count.

And dear, it isn’t the new ways.
Where the wonder-seekers crowd.
That lead us into the land of content, or help
us to find our own.
But it is keeping to true ways.
Though the music is not so loud.
And there may be many a shadowed spot
where we journey along alone
In flinging a prayer at the face of fear and in
changing into a song a groan-
Dear, these are the things that count.

My dear, it isn’t the loud part
Of creeds that is pleasing to God
Not the chant of a prayer, or the hum of a
hymn, or a jubilant shout or song.
But it is the beautiful proud part
Of walking with feet faith-shod
And in loving, loving, loving through all, no
matter how things go wrong.

In trusting ever, though dark the day and in
keeping your hope when the way seems
Dear, these are the things that count.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox