For every hill I've had to climb,
  For every stone that bruised my feet,
For all the blood and sweat and grime,
  For blinding storm and burning heat,
My heart sings but a grateful song -
  These were the things that made me strong.

For all the heartaches and the tears,
  For all the anguish and the pain,
For gloom days and fruitless years,
  And for the hopes that lived in vain,
I do give thanks; for now I know
  These were the things that helped me grow. 

'Tis not the softer things of life,
  Which stimulate man's will to strive,
But bleak adversity and strife 
  Do most to keep man's will alive.
O'er rose-strewn paths the weaklings creep,
  But brave hearts dare to climb the steep!