IT’S ALL in the way that you look at the world,
It’s all in the way that you do things,
With laughter or sorrow your lips may be curled,
But it’s all in the way that you view things.
Yes, it’s all in the way that you journey along
That makes life a plague or a pleasure,
The mind is the fountain of wailing or song
And a man is the judge of the measure.
It’s all in the way that you look at your woe
And not in the woe that is sent you;
You may bear it with courage and smile as you go,
Or frown and let it discontent you.
For care is a creature that’s born of the mind,
And gloom is a cloud we can scatter,
The thorn of the rose if we seek we can find,
But the thorn of the rose doesn’t matter.
We can make our own sunshine and make our own mirth,
We can add to our trouble by moping;
We can make a grim graveyard of this glad old earth
By giving up loving and hoping.
For it’s all in the way that we look at the world,
Yes, it’s all in the way that we view things,
With sorrow or laughter our lips may be curled
For it’s all in the way that we do things.
