For every hill I had to climb,
For every stone that bruised my feet,
For all the blood and
sweat and grime,
For blinding storms and
burning heat,
My heart sings but a grateful song-
Those were the things
that made me strong.
For all the heartaches and the tears,
For all the anguish and the pain.
For the gloomy days and fruitless years
And for the hopes that lived in vain;
I do give thanks, for now I know,
These were the things
that helped me grow.
'Tis not the softer things of life
Which stimulate our will to strive,
But bleak adversity and strife
Do most to keep our will alive.
Over rose-strewn paths
the weaklings creep,
But brave hearts dare
to climb the steep.
-Author Unknown
