“What, in a world where cries for help
Must ever sound till sin shall cease,
Can be a goodlier work than this, -
Griefs to assuage, joys to increase?
“To cheer the oppressed, with righteous words
And aid them with a labouring arm;
The slaves of tyrant ignorance
To rescue, and then shield from harm;
“To offer cups of water pure
From rocky truth’s coll, plenteous well,
To souls confused with feverish woes
Unspoken and unspeakable.
“O, if no partner in the pains
By which love labours for my race,
Death, that takes home and crowns the brave,
Can but insure my long disgrace.”
Must ever sound till sin shall cease,
Can be a goodlier work than this, -
Griefs to assuage, joys to increase?
“To cheer the oppressed, with righteous words
And aid them with a labouring arm;
The slaves of tyrant ignorance
To rescue, and then shield from harm;
“To offer cups of water pure
From rocky truth’s coll, plenteous well,
To souls confused with feverish woes
Unspoken and unspeakable.
“O, if no partner in the pains
By which love labours for my race,
Death, that takes home and crowns the brave,
Can but insure my long disgrace.”
LYNCH
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