“Let’s Be Brave” from The Passing Throng by Edgar A. Guest
Let’s be brave when the laughter dies
And the tears come into our troubled eyes,
Let’s cling to the faith and the old belief
When the skies grow gray with the clouds of grief,
Let’s bear the sorrow and hurt and pain
And wait till the laughter comes again.
Let’s be brave when the trials come
And our hearts are sad and our lips are dumb,
Let’s strengthen ourselves in the times of test
By whispering softly that God knows best;
Let us still believe, though we cannot know,
We shall learn sometime it is better so.
Let’s be brave when the joy departs
Till peace shall come to our troubled hearts,
For the tears must fall and the rain come down
And each brow be pressed to the thorny crown;
Yet after the dark shall the sun arise,
So let’s be brave when the laughter dies.
Our Horse and Buggy
When I saw the pictures of our old buildings, the machinery, and the burn barrels that are no more, I thought of this poem by Edgar A. Guest. And when I found a photograph of the horse and buggy it reminded me that when the work was done in the old days, Dobbin was often hitched to a wagon or a buckboard and driven to a neighboring farm for an evening of music and dance. I think the man seated to the right was Mom’s brother, John. Mom was standing behind him. Her sister-in-law was next to her. I don’t know who the guy to the left was. It was a hard life in those days for people who had no money. It was their faith in God that kept them going. I can’t imagine what they would think if they were alive today.
Burn barrels and hay elevator
