BE GENTLE, FORGIVING, AND KIND.
By J. G. Tisdale
Oh! why are we always so ready
To hear what another may say,
To canvass the faults of a neighbor,
Forgetting our own by the way?
We know not the hearts that we censure.
Be gentle, forgiving, and kind;
One drop from the fountain of pity,
A wound that is bleeding may bind. A word, like an angel of mercy,
The sunshine of gladness may bear;
May cheer a lone spirit forsaken,
Or add to the weight of its care.
A word, do we think of its import?
Though uttered perhaps with a smile,
A heart may be writhing beneath it,
Or breaking with anguish the while. A word that in coldness is spoken
May sever the friendship of years;
The flower of feeling may wither,
And leave them in sorrow and tears.
Then why are we always so ready
To hear what another may say,
To canvass the faults of a brother,
Forgetting our own by the way?