OT charity we ask,
Nor yet thy gift refuse;
Please thy light fancy with the easy
Only to look and choose.
The little-heeded
That wins thy treasured
May be the dearest memory, holiest joy,
Of coming years untold.
Heaven rains on every heart,
But there its showers divide,
The drops of mercy choosing, as they part,
The dark or glowing side.
One kindly deed may
The fountain of thy
To love’s sweet day-star, that shall o’er thee
Long as its currents roll.
The pleasures thou hast planned,—ÂWhere shall their memory
When the white angel with the freezing
Shall sit and watch by thee?
Living, thou dost not live,
If mercy’s spring run dry;
What Heaven has lent thee wilt thou freely give,
Dying, thou shalt not die.
HE promised even so!
To thee his lips repeat,—ÂBehold, the tears that soothed thy sister’s
Have washed thy Master’s feet!
March 20, 1859.
