Shudder not at the murderer's name,
Marvel not at the maiden's shame.
Pass not by with averted eye
The door where the stricken children cry.
But when the beat of the unseen feet
Sounds by night through the stormy street,
Follow thou where the spectres glide;
Stand like Hope by the mother's side;
And be thyself the angel sent
To shield the hapless and innocent.
He gives but little who gives his tears,
He gives his best who aids and cheers.
He does well in the forest wild
Who slays the monster and saves the child;
But he does better, and merits more,
Who drives the wolf from the poor man's door.
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