Then deem it not an idle thing A pleasant word to speak; The face you wear, the thought you bring, A heart may heal or break. --John Greenleaf Whittier. IF WE KNEW If we knew the cares and sorrows Crowded round our neighbor's way, If we knew the little losses, Sorely grievous, day by day, Would we then so often chide him For the lack of thrift and gain, Leaving on his heart a shadow Leaving on our hearts a stain? If we knew the clouds above us, Held by gentle blessings there, Would we turn away, all trembling, In our blind and weak despair? Would we shrink from little shadows Lying on the dewy grass While 'tis only birds of Eden Just in mercy flying past? Let us reach within our bosoms For the key to other lives, And with love to erring natures Cherish good that still survives; So that when our disrobed spirits Soar to realms of light again, We may say, "Dear Father, judge us As we judged our fellow men." Time to me this truth hath taught, 'Tis a truth that's worth revealing: More offend from want of thought Than from want of feeling. If advice we would convey, There's a time we should convey it; If we've but a word to say, There's a time in which to say it. HONOR ALL MEN Great Master! teach us how to hope in man: We lift our eyes upon his works and ways, And disappointment chills us as we gaze, Our dream of him so far the truth outran, So far his deeds are ever falling short. And then we fold our graceful hands and say, "The world is vulgar." Didst thou turn away, O Sacred Spirit, delicately wrought, Because the humble souls of Galilee Were tuned not to the music of thine own And chimed not to the pulsing undertone Which swelled Thy loving bosom like the sea? Shame thou our coldness, most benignant Friend, When we so daintily do condescend. --Martha Perry Howe. BROTHERHOOD That plenty but reproaches me Which leaves my neighbor bare. Not wholly glad my heart can be While his is bowed with care. If I go free, and sound, and stout, While his poor fetters clank, Unsated still, I'll still cry out, And plead with Whom I thank. Almighty, thou who Father be Of him, of me, of all, Draw us together, him and me, That, whichsoever fall, The other's hand may fail him not-- The other's strength decline No task of succor that his lot May claim from son of thine. I would be fed. I would be clad. I would be housed and dry. But if so be my heart is sad-- What benefit have I? Best he whose shoulders best endure The load that brings relief; And best shall be his joy secure Who shares that joy with grief. --Edward Sandford Martin. THE LIFE I SEEK