In her kind words, that come but late,
Sweet balm for sorrow's found.
Oh, that this wicked, wicked world
Could boast more such friendly souls!
Less lives would be so sadly hurled
Into a pit of earthly ghouls,
Where nothing's saved, but all is lost;
And where man's cast, at any cost,
Into a dismal, prison dell—
A gloomy, dreary, earthly hell!
Come, of such friends arise and sing,
With thanks returned to heaven's king!
* * * * *