Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Sympathy

Sympathy.

On earth, while onward time doth roll,Incessant cares our path surround;Yet thou reviv'st the drooping soulAs dew from heaven the thirsty ground.

As lullaby the ailing childMay softly lull to quiet sleep,So thy consoling spirit mildSoothes those who sorrow-stricken weep.

For oft when some poor heart by griefIs wrung, true sympathy may dryThe blinding tear, may yield relief,And thus suppress the bitter sigh.

Sweet unison of soul will raiseFaith's languid flame, in anguished breast,And blended hopes of brighter daysLighten the heart with sorrow pressed.

Oh, is it not indeed sublime,To drop soul-soothing words of cheer,Which like some sweet-loved mellow chimeFall gently calm on pensive ear.

'Tis Heaven's command that we should beTo each as brothers, and in loveWe should fulfil this high decree,This "new commandment" from above.

Then let us do whate'er we can,Ami ne'er be selfish, backward, vain,To aid a suffering fellow-man,To mitigate a brother's pain.

For He whose mighty power could stayThe tumult of the troubled sea,Breathed while on earth, day after day,The very soul of sympathy.