Not where deadly bullets rattle
Is the only hero ground,
Nor upon the field of battle
Are the most of heroes found;
There are lives pure, noble and great,
Yet we never hear their name,
Martyrs to duly - yet their fate
Illumes not the page of fame!
Labor's pay is meagre and scant,
The poor are but slaves to wealth;
The hardest wrought know most of want,
May starve when broken in health;
Dives still looks at the palace gate
Where Lazarus moaning lies.
Nor seeks to ease his brother's fate -
Through neglect and want he dies!
In the daily struggle for bread
There are scenes of direst woe.
The aching heart and throbbing head
Doth company keep, we know;
Life's great battle goes bravely on, -
We hear but a smothered sigh.
The cross is kiss'd - the crown is won -
As the vanquish'd heroes die!
Oh! there are lives so fraught with grief
And the sum of human woe,
In sleep alone is found relief
From the cares that overflow;
Yet on they plod from day to day,
Treading the Slough of Despond,
Hoping 'gainst hope - but to give way,
To the aching void beyond!
Oh! for the heaven beyond earth's cares,
The love that dispels our fears,
God's answer to our fervent prayers,
And the Hand that wipes all tears;
The more of trial on earth we know,
The greater our joy in heaven,
Our empty hearts shall then o'erflow -
The crown for the cross be given!
Poet: John Imrie
What inward pain we sometimes feel
When we have been misunderstood,
How doth affection's warmth congeal
When ill intent's coin'd out of good?
How many bleeding hearts there are
Whose greatest bliss was doing good,
Yet for their love receiv'd a scar
From dearest friend - misunderstood!
When death hath clos'd the eyes of one
Whose heart beat ever for our good,
How sad to know, their setting sun
Was dimm'd by us - misunderstood!
'Tis then we feel the pain we gave
A parent, friend, or neighbor good,
And grief o'erwhelms us like a wave, -
Too late! too late! - misunderstood!
Oh! could we but live o'er the past,
And weave our web of life once more,
Glad rays of sunshine would we cast
Where doubt and darkness reign'd before!
Hope is not dead! - the Present lives! -
Let us redeem it as we should;
The flower that's crush'd more fragrance gives
Than had it lived- misunderstood!
But One there is who never fails
To read the heart of man aright,
Though toss'd on life's tempestuous gales,
God will sustain us by His might!
Let all our aims in life be pure-
Men may misjudge - still cling to good
At last the victory shall be sure,
And we shall then be - understood!