"The Things That Count" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1919)

Now, dear, it isn’t the bold things,

Great deeds of valour 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 are 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 long—

Dear, these are the things that count.