1870
A clasp of hands will oft reveal
A sympathy that makes us feel
Ourselves again; we lose our care:
And in our heart's first glad rebound
At tender sympathy new found,
The world once more seems bright and fair.
1871
I LAY IN SORROW, DEEP DISTRESSED.
I lay in sorrow, deep distressed:
My grief a proud man heard;
His looks were cold, he gave me gold,
But not a kindly word.
My sorrow passed,—I paid him back
The gold he gave to me;
Then stood erect and spoke my thanks,
And blessed his charity.
I lay in want, in grief and pain:
A poor man passed my way;
He bound my head, he gave me bread,
He watched me night and day.
How shall I pay him back again,
For all he did to me?
Oh, gold is great, but greater far
Is Heavenly Sympathy.
—Charles Mackay.
1872
The human heart sighs for sympathy and solace, in the dark hour of suffering and sorrow.
—Rev. Thos. M. McConnell.