We are sitting in the shadow Of a long and lonely night, Waiting till some gentle angel Comes to lead us to the light; For we know there is a magic That can give eyes to the blind. Oh, well-filled hands, be generous! Oh, pitying hearts, be kind! Help stumbling feet that wander To find the upward way; Teach hands that now lie idle The joys of work and play. Let pity, love, and patience Our tender teachers be, That though the eyes be blinded, The little souls may see. Your world is large and beautiful, Our prison dim and small; We stand and wait, imploring, "Is there not room for all? Give us our children’s garden, Where we may safely bloom, Forgetting in God’s sunshine Our lot of grief and gloom." A little voice comes singing; Oh, listen to its song! A little child is pleading For those who suffer wrong. Grant them the patient magic That gives eyes to the blind! Oh, well-filled hands, be generous! Oh, pitying hearts, be kind! It was a very simple little song, but it proved wonderfully effective, for Lizzie was so carried away by her own feeling that as she sang the last lines she stretched out her hands imploringly, and two great tears rolled down her cheeks. For a minute many hands were too busy fumbling for handkerchiefs to clap, but the children were quick to answer that gesture and those tears; and one impetuous little lad tossed a small purse containing his last ten cents at Lizzie’s feet, the first contribution won by her innocent appeal. Then there was great applause, and many of the flowers just bought were thrown to the little lark, who was obliged to come back and sing again and again, smiling brightly as she dropped pretty courtesies, and sang song after song with all the added sweetness of a grateful heart. Hidden behind the organ, Miss Grace and Mr. Constantine shook hands joyfully, for this was the sort of interest they wanted, and they knew that while the children clapped and threw flowers, the wet-eyed mothers were thinking self-reproachfully, "I must help this lovely charity," and the stout old gentlemen who pounded with their canes were resolving to go home and write some generous checks, which would be money invested in God’s savings-bank.