And we have pledged ourselves to grief,
And bitter hurt and pain,
Then must we cling to this belief:
We suffer not in vain.
God grant to us the strength of men,
God help us to be true
Until that glorious morning when
The world shall smile anew.
We shall be tested sore and tried,
And flayed by many fears,
Yet let us in this faith abide,
That right shall rule the years.
Sympathy
One came to the house with a pretty speech:
"It's all for the best," said he,
And I know that he sought my heart to reach,
And I know that he grieved with me.
But I was too full of my sorrow then
To list to his words or care;
Though I've tried I cannot recall again
The comfort he gave me there.
But another came, and his lips were dumb
As he grasped me by the hand,
And he stammered: "Old man, I had to come,
Oh, I hope you'll understand."
And ever since then I have felt his hand
Clasped tightly in my own,
And to-day his silence I understand--
My sorrowing he had known.
Hate
They say we must not hate, nor fight in hate.
I've thought it over many a solemn hour,
And cannot mildly view the man or state
That has no thought, save only to be great;
I cannot love the creature drunk with power.
I hate the hand that slaughters babes at sea,
I hate that will that orders wives to die.
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