Give words, kind words, to those who err;
Remorse doth need a comforter.
Though in temptation's wiles they fall,
Condemn not we are sinners all.
With the sweet charity of speech,
Give words that heal, and words that teach.
Poet: Daniel C. Colesworthy
A little word in kindness spoken,
A motion or a tear,
Has often healed the heart that's broken,
And made a friend sincere.
A word, a look, has crushed to earth
Full many a budding flower,
Which, had a smile but owned its birth,
Would bless life's darkest hour,
Then deem it not an idle thing
A pleasant word to speak;
The face you wear, the thoughts you bring,
A heart may heal or break.
Words Make A Difference
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
The words you say,
Can make or break a person's day.
The tone that you use
Is up to you to choose.
You see words make a difference
They can mean rejection or acceptance.
They can hurt a person's feelings
Or leave a person reeling.
Think before you speak, is good advice
Like our Moms have said, be nice.
Words can offer support
They don't need to be long, they can be short.
Encourage others by the words you use
And if you can't say something nice, then yourself excuse.
In all situations in life, words do matter
They are not just chatter!
A Hasty Word
We should go through life as the traveler
Goes through the Swiss mountains;
A hasty word may bring down an avalanche
A misstep may plunge us over a precipice.
The Power Of Words
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Oh, the power of words, how they enchant!
With each syllable, a world is born,
Capable of both hurt and embrace,
Criticism's sting or encouragement's embrace.
They wield the strength to tear down or build,
Blame's sharp sword or forgiveness distilled.
Yet in this mighty force, hope lies to stay,
For with our own words, we choose our way.
An idle word may be seemingly harmless in its utterance,
But let it be fanned by passion,
Let it be fed with the fuel of misconception,
Of evil intention, of prejudice, and
It will soon grow into a sweeping fire,
That will melt the chains of human friendship,
That will burn to ashes many cherished hopes,
And blacken more fair names than one.
Oh, let us carry hence, one,
Some kindly word, some look, tone, Into his after-life, to be
Treasured heart-deep and carried
An echo from the distant sea,
A thing of joy to memory,
In all the years to come!
These Are Not Lost
Poet: Sarah Doudney
The look of sympathy, the gentle word,
Spoken so low that only angels heard;
The secret art of pure self-sacrifice,
Unseen by men, but marked by angels' eyes
These are not lost.
The Word Farewell
Poet: Mrs. Southey
I never cast a flower away,
The gift of one who cared for me,
A little flower - a faded flower,
But it was done reluctantly.
I never speak the word farewell
But with an utterance faint and broken,
An earth-sick longing for the time
When it shall never more be spoken.
People liked him, not because
He was rich or known to fame;
He had never won applause
As a star in any game.
His was not a brilliant style.
His was not a forceful way.
But he had a gentle smile
And a kindly word to say.
Never arrogant or proud,
On he went with manner mild;
Never quarrelsome or loud,
Just as simple as a child;
Honest, patient, brave and true:
Thus he lived from day to day.
Doing what he found to do
In a cheerful sort of way
Wasn't one to boast of gold
Or belittle it with sneers,
Didn't change from hot to cold,
Kept his friends throughout the years,
Sort of man you like to meet
Any time or any place.
There was always something sweet
And refreshing in his face.
Sort of man you'd like to be:
Balanced well and truly square;
Patient in adversity.
Generous when his skies were fair.
Never lied to friend or foe.
Never rash in word or deed,
Quick to come and slow to go
In a neighbor's time of need.
Never rose to wealth or fame,
Simply lived, and simply died,
But the passing of his name
Left a sorrow, far and wide.
Not for glory he'd attained.
Nor for what he had of pelf,
Were the friends that he had gained,
But for what he was himself.