The Proof Of A Man Is The

I'd Like To Be The Sort Of Friend That You Have Been To Me. I'd Like To Be The Help That You've Been Always Glad To Be; I'd Like To Mean As Much To You Each Minute Of The Day, As You Have Meant, Old Friend Of Mine, To Me Along The Way.

Oh, You'll Not Be Any Poorer If You Smile Along Your Way. And Your Lot Will Not Be Harder For The Kindly Things You Say. Don't Imagine You Are Wasting Time For Others That You Spend. You Can Rise To Wealth And Glory And Still Pause To Be A Friend.

Be A Friend. You Don't Need Glory. Friendship Is A Simple Story.

The Making Of Friends Life Is Sweet Because Of The Friends We Have Made And The Things Which In Common We Share; We Want To Live On, Not Because Of Ourselves, But Because Of The Ones Who Would Care. It's Living And Doing For Somebody Else On That All Of Life's Splendor Depends, And The Joy Of It All, When We Count It All Up, Is Found In The Making Of Friends.

There's Nothing That Builds Up A Toil-weary Soul Like A Day On A Stream, Back On The Banks Of The Old Fishing Hole Where A Fellow Can Dream. There's Nothing So Good For A Man As To Flee From The City And Lie Full Length In The Shade Of A Whispering Tree And Gaze At The Sky. . . . . It Is Good For The World That Men Hunger To Go To The Banks Of A Stream, And Weary Of Sham And Of Pomp And Of Show They Have Somewhere To Dream. For This Life Would Be Dreary And Sordid And Base Did They Not Now And Then Seek Refreshment And Calm In God's Wide, Open Space And Come Back To Be Men.