Perhaps if your lines had not drifted
Into places most pleasant and fair,
You would not be the "uplifted"
Any more than that creature right there.
Into places most pleasant and fair,
You would not be the "uplifted"
Any more than that creature right there.
So pause—when you think to condemn him,
"Put yourself in his place" as it were,
Forgiving the sin, for his ignorance dim;
Just give him a chance and a share.
"Put yourself in his place" as it were,
Forgiving the sin, for his ignorance dim;
Just give him a chance and a share.
There's nothing like living to never regret,
For a soul who could happier be;
And never a wrong, but a right with it yet,
If you sift out the wrong thoroughly.
For a soul who could happier be;
And never a wrong, but a right with it yet,
If you sift out the wrong thoroughly.
The Song in My Heart
There's a song in my heart that I never sing,
And its music is low and deep;
Its chords are all true, but one broken string,—
That, has a memory to keep.
I hear it so oft when all else is still,
In sweetest of notes, and clear;
And then as I listen and bow to His will,
There's a moan on the string, and a tear.
And its music is low and deep;
Its chords are all true, but one broken string,—
That, has a memory to keep.
I hear it so oft when all else is still,
In sweetest of notes, and clear;
And then as I listen and bow to His will,
There's a moan on the string, and a tear.
—87—
