The Highest Goal

The highest goal is not success,
If that be made the aim;
But faithfulness, tho' counted less,
Is what God promises to bless:
These goals are not the same.

And if I am to do my best
In every line of life,
My effort will be surely blest,
And I will find in toil sweet rest,
Tho' in a world of strife.

And when before the throne I stand
To answer for the use
Of gifts received from God's own hand,
He will not then, in wrath, demand
From me some strong excuse,

To show why I had not attained
The goal of grand success,
Such as some noted men have gained,
For if my work is not sin-stained
God will my failures bless.

And I will hear Him say, "My son,
A throne thou hast attained;
Without applause thy race was run,
'Midst failures oft thy work was done,
Life's highest goal is gained."

Joseph Horatio Chant

Joseph Horatio Chant was a Canadian poet known for his religious and nature-inspired verse. He worked as a farmer and later became an ordained Methodist minister, which influenced his poetry. Chant's work gained modest recognition for its sincere exploration of faith and the Canadian landscape, contributing to the country's early literary heritage. He lived and wrote during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Joseph Horatio Chant

The Real

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

The Big Bear Creek

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

A True Man

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

To Mr. Rudyard Kipling[1]

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

English

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Aspiration

I stand to-day on higher ground
Than ever reached before,
Yet from this summit I have found,
Outlined full many more,
Which seem to pierce the vaulted sky,
And prove my effort vain
But God will set my feet on high,
Thro' grace I shall attain.

Yet higher still my ideal stands,
Its peak but dimly seen,
But hope impels, and love commands,
And faith discerns its sheen;
And when I reach its shining height
Heaven's gate will open wide;
I'll see the beatific sight,
And rest at Jesus' side.

Joseph Horatio Chant

God's Plan Is Best

Thy plan is best, though it may not agree
With my conceptions of my needs and rights,
And faith may fail to scale its azure heights;
Yet still I trust, and leave my cause with Thee.

With single eye I sought to do Thy will.
I felt Thy smile and left results with Thee;
If they have failed, then that is naught to me--
I did my part, and am Thy servant still.

The hearts of men are in Thy mighty hand;
Naught is concealed from Thy all-searching sight;
Canst Thou not turn them to the left or right?
The raging ocean calms at Thy command.

The aching clay may circumscribe my sphere;
Yet in confinement I may labor still
In work which harmonizes with Thy will,
And e'er rejoice to have my Master near.

Thoughts of Thy love will yet remain with me,

Joseph Horatio Chant

The Royal Way

Perfection ever is the price of toil.
Of marchings long, and hardships by the way,
Of burdens borne, oft in the heat of day,
'Tis then as right the victor claims the spoil.

The world admires the wreath upon his brow,
But he alone can tell how much it cost,
And how to gain it he had all things lost.
Results men see, but not the when, or how.

The stately elm which rears its head so high,
And spreads abroad so gracefully its boughs,
Beneath which may repose a herd of cows,
Grows under ground as well as toward the sky.

The bridge which spans the swiftly-flowing stream
O'er which the iron horse, by night and day,
With heavy tread speeds on its busy way,
Rests not on sand, nor slender post and beam.

Below the shifting sand, on solid rock,

Joseph Horatio Chant

Gather The Wayside Flowers

'Tis well to have a goal in mind,
A life-aim, high and true;
Clear as the day, and well defined,
And ever kept in view.
But God has strewn along the way
Bright flowers of every hue.
Gather the brightest while you may,
For they were meant for you.

Heaven's joy transcends the joys of earth,
But if earth's joys be pure
They must have had a heavenly birth,
And bless while they endure;
So pluck the flower before it fades--
Drink from the purling stream;
Nor look for sorrow's darkening shades,
But for the morning gleam.

Life's burdens lose full half their weight
If gay our spirits be;
The rest beyond we antedate,
And serve, though ever free.
Our lamentations all will end,
Exchanged for smile and song,
And men will mark our u...

Joseph Horatio Chant

My Rest

I would not cherish a wish or thought
Displeasing, Lord, to Thee;
Thy will is good, and with wisdom fraught,
And that suffices me.
I cannot alter a plan of Thine,
And would not if I could;
I acquiesce in the will divine,
And find my highest good.

At times my vessel drifts near the shore,
And the beacon lights expire,
The surf-capped waves swell more and more,
And threaten with ruin dire;
But only the surface sea is rough;
The ocean's depths are calm,
And a star affords me light enough,
The Star of Bethlehem.

And by its light I discern the sand
And rocks along the coast,
And turn away toward a fairer land,
And standing at my post,
I guide my bark thro' the tempest wild,
Borne on by wind and tide,
Till God receives His w...

Joseph Horatio Chant

Life

Our lives seem filled with things of little worth;
A thousand petty cares arise each day
Which bring our soaring thoughts from heaven to earth,
Reminding us that we have feet of clay;
Yet we will not from path of duty stray
If we amidst them all cleave to the right;
Nor great nor small are actions in His sight;
Through lowly vale He shows our feet the way.

Our early dreams may not be realized;
The roseate sky now proves quite commonplace;
The constellations we so highly prized
Have vanished all--nor left the slightest trace
Of former glory in its azure face,
But high o'er all beams out the polar star
To guide us safe through rock and sandy bar;
Life is complete and its cap-stone is grace.

Joseph Horatio Chant