 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
CHARITY.
Pass not the wretched dumbly. CharityHath not a hand open as day alone;
She hath an open mouth, too, with kind tone
To cheer and comfort; in her ready eye
Tears, precious beyond pearls, of sympathy;
Smiles on her lips, like gleams of sunshine thrown
On clouded hearts, whence Hope hath all but flown;
Words, which give more than gold could bring or buy;
Words, gentle words, thawing some poor chilled heart,
Frost-bit, alone, at distance from its kind,
Doubting if God have given it a part
To play; and, in despair the clue to find,
Wandering a poor, lost waif, lost at first start,
In Life's great labyrinth where blind lead blind.
| Stones from The Quarry | |