As tender as a mother’s to her babe,
Pours pious consolation in his ear.
She came to one long used in war’s rude scenes—
A soldier from his youth, grown gray in arms,
Now pierced with mortal wounds. Untutored, rough,
Though brave and true, uncared for by the world.
His life had passed without a friendly word,
Which timely spoken to his willing ear,
Had wakened God-like hopes, and filled his heart
With the unfading bloom of sacred truth.