If you can smooth his path a bit, br Bring laughter to his worried face, br Restore today his stock of grit br And help him all his troubles chase. br If you can speak one word of praise br That shall his drooping spirits raise br And warm his heart with cheer, br You have done more than they will do br Who'll sighing, rush some day to strew br Red roses on his bier. br br If you stretch out a hand to him br Today when he is plodding on, br When everything seems dark and grim, br And hope is very nearly gone, br If you go to him where he stays br And speak the little word of praise br That now may banish fear, br You will have done more good than they br Who'll rush to praise his lifeless clay br And strew with flowers his bier. br br If you will note the good you see br In him today, while yet he lives, br If you will be the friend you'll be br When death to him the summons gives, br While he is here to hear your praise, br To profit by your kindly ways, br You'll not seem insincere br If, when death's smile is on his face, br You rush to be the first to place br Red roses on his bier.