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 agin 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 you 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 he’s worth ‘em all,
Because you can show him your feelings.

His wrong’s your wrong, and his right is 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 the mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the foot of the gallows- and after!

If	you can keep your head when all about you
	Are losing theirs and blaming it on you
	If	you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, 
	But make allowance for their doubting too;
	If	you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
	Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
	Or	being hated, don't give way to hating, 
	And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

	If	you can dream -and not make dreams your master;
 	If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
	If	you can meet with triumph and Disaster 
	And treat those two imposters just the same;
	If	you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken 
	Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
	Or	watch the things you gave your life to, broken, 
	And stoop and build `em up with worn-out tools:

	If	you can make one heap of all your winnings 
	And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
        And lose, and start again at your beginnings
        And never breathe a word about your loss;
        If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
        To serve your turn long after they are gone,
        And so hold on when there is nothing in you
	Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

	If	you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, 
	Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
	If	neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, 
	If all men count with you, but none too much;
	If	you can fill the unforgiving minute 
	With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it
	And - which is more - you`ll be a Man, my son!

Both by Kipling