The rich man’s son inherits lands, And piles of brick and stone, and gold;
And he inherits soft white hands And tender flesh that fears the cold. Nor dares to wear a garment old:
A heritage, it seems to me,
One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
The rich man’s son inherits cares,— The bank may break, the factory burn,
A breath may burst his bubble shares; And soft white hands could hardly earn A living that would serve his turn:
A heritage, it seems to me,
One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
The rich man’s son inherits wants. His stomach craves for dainty fare;
With sated heart, he hears the pants Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare, And wearies in his easy-chair;
A heritage, it seems to me.
One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
What doth the poor man’s son inherit? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart,
A hardy frame, a hardier spirit; King of two hands, he does his part In every useful toil and art:
A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
What doth the poor man’s son inherit? Wishes o’erjoyed with humble things,
A rank adjudged by toil-won merit, Content that from employment springs, A heart that in his labor sings:
A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
What doth the poor man’s son inherit? A patience learned of being poor,
Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it, A fellow-feeling that is sure To make the outcast bless his door:
A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
O rich man’s son! there is a toil That with all others level stands;
Large charity doth never soil, But only whiten, soft white hands; This is the best crop from thy lands:
A heritage, it seems to me.
Worth being rich to hold in fee.
O poor man’s son! scorn not thy state; There is worse weariness than thine,
In merely being rich and" great; Toil only gives the soul to shine. And makes rest fragrant and benign:
A heritage, it seems to me.
Worth being poor to hold in fee.
Both, heirs to some six feet of sod, Are equal in the earth at last;
Both, children of the same dear God, Prove title to your heirship vast By record of a well-filled past:
A heritage, it seems to me.
Well worth a life to hold in fee.
A WIDER AND WISER HUMANITY.
I do not believe in violent changes, nor do I expect them. Things in possession have a very firm grip. One of the strongest cements of society is the conviction of mankind that the state of things into which they are born is a part of the order of the universe, as natural, let us say, as that the sun should go round the earth. It is a conviction that they will not surrender except on compulsion, and a wise society should look to it that this compulsion be not put upon them. For the individual man there is no radical cure, outside of human nature itself, for the evils to which human nature is heir. The rule will always hold good that you must
“ Be your own palace or the world’s your gaol.”
But for artificial evils, for evils that spring from want of thought, thought must find a remedy somewhere. There has been no period of time in which wealth has been more sensible of its duties than now; it builds hospitals, it establishes missions among the poor, it endows schools. It is one of the advantages of accumulated wealth and of the leisure it renders possible, that people have time to think of the grants and sorrows of their fellows; but all these remedies are partial and palliative
