SMILING, THOUGH SAD.
O! yes! I’ve learn’d the art
To smile when the bosom’s aching,
In others’ joy to take a part,
When all my heart seems breaking.
I’ve learn’d to raise my voice,
And sing the songs of gladness,
When the sun, that bade my heart rejoice,
Has set in clouds of sadness.
I’ve learn’d to hide my tears,
And hush my heavy sighing,
While every placid feature wears
A look, the truth belying.
If I could speak my woe,
O! who would understand me?
The wond’ring look, from friend and foe,
To silence would command me.
Alone—alone—alone—
I feel in the crowded city;
Yet strive t’ assume a cheerful tone—
I love not human pity!
O! how I love to hide
Whene’er I feel so lonely,
From all the world to turn aside,
And fly to Jesus only.
That sympathizing friend
Will never chide my sadness,
But, while I weep, he’ll o’er me bend,
And whisper words of gladness.
February 27, 1841.