On shadowed thresholds dark with fears,

From paths where hide the lures of greed

We catch the vision of thy tears.

From tender childhood's helplessness,

From woman's grief, man's burdened toil,

From famished souls, from sorrow's stress,

Thy heart has never known recoil.

The cup of water given for Thee

Still holds the freshness of thy grace;

Yet long these multitudes to see