How shall I a habit break?
As you did that habit make.
As you gathered, you must lose;
As you yielded, no refuse.
Thread by thread the strands we twist
Till they bind us, neck and wrist.
Thread by thread the patient hand
Must untwine, ere free we stand.
As we builded, stone by stone,
We must toil, unhelped, alone,
Till the wall is overthrown.
LITTLE DROPS of water,
Little grains of sand,
Make the might ocean
And the pleasant land.
Thus the little minutes,
Humble though they be,
Make the mighty ages
There was once a pendulum waiting to be fixed on a new clock.
It began to calculate how long it would be before the big wheels
were worn out and its work was done. It would be expected to tick night and day, so many times a minute, sixty times that every hour, and twenty-four times that every day and three hundred and sixty-five times that every year. It was awful! quite a row of figures, enough to stagger you! Millions of ticks! "I can never do it," said the poor pendulum. But the clockmaster encouraged it. "You can do one tick at a time?" he said. "Oh, yes," the pendulum could do that. "Well," he said, "that is all that will be required of you." So the pendulum went to work, steadily ticking, one tick at a time, and it is ticking yet, quite cheerfully.