One Man In A Thousand

Rummaging through my folder for something, I find a piece of paper. Fraying at ends, just short of yellowing, but still firm enough to be held and clear enough to be read. On it, with a beautiful font, is printed a poem, which, at one time, was meant for me. The person who sent it, is long gone and I guess its time for the yellowing sheet of paper to go too, but not before I share the poem with you.

One man in a thousand, Solomon says,
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it's worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth man will stand your friend
With the whole round world against you.

'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding for 'ee.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em go
By your looks, or your acts, or your glory.
But if he finds you and you find him.
The rest of the world don't matter;
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim
With you in any water.

You can use his purse with no more talk
Than he uses yours for his spendings,
And laugh and meet in your daily walk
As though there had been no lendings.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em call
For silver and gold in their dealings;
But the Thousandth Man h's worth 'em all,
Because you can show him your feelings.

His wrong's your wrong, and his right's your right,
In season or out of season.
Stand up and back it in all men's sight --
With that for your only reason!

Nine hundred and ninety-nine can't bide
The shame or mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the gallows-foot -- and after!

Every now and then, we meet people who we think fit this discription. Alas! its just a matter of time that they go away, move on or drift apart. What a pity that such beautiful words lose their meaning in the whole bargain.