The world can do without us: every one
Hath every other as his waiting heir;
And, though affections be not lacking there,
Each seeks to win the race we all must run:
Be humble then; thou standest in the ranks
A little-heeded soldier; for thy fall,
Even should messmates mourn for it at all,
Be sure a crowd of foes shall give God thanks:
Heaven sets us here for Duty; duty done,
He calls us hence to the celestial clime
Where we shall wear the medals won in time:
Let all thy care be Duty then - not Fame;
So shalt thou find thyself a happy son,
On whom the Blessed Father sets His name.