Thoughts by the Way.

Evening Star, Issue 7259, 9 July 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

Thoughts by the Way.

Count up the channels where old ocean long hath held his sway, The mighty rivers, streams, and brooks that homage to him pay, _ . The many drops that unperceived in vapor clouds ascend, ..!.«. The sparkling dew beneath whose weight the tiny grass blades bend. E'en couldst thou count the particles of light that shine through space, Thou couldst not number all the acts of neverfailing grace, ~ The tender mercies of our God are rich and tree Nothing's too great for Him to bless, and nothing is too small. And yet man in his weakness sometimes scarce can condescend To treat his fellow mortal as a brother and a friend. The pride of wealth and rank (methinks the want of common sense) Cause men to act as if they should with courtesy dispense. The cobwebs of society, dividing class from class, I All vanish at death's portals, where man as man must pass, 'lis as a helpless mortal man first draws life s fleeting breath, And just as helpless at the last he breathes it out at death. Our common blood, our common wants, should speak with greater power Than outward circumstances that may change at any hour. I know of no blue blood, except the blood that is impure, That courses upward through the veins alike of rich and poor. Boast not of blood, boast not of rank, nor aught that you possess, But gloiy if thou hast the power to make man s sorrow less; Thousands of thousands daily weep, and weep on in despair, The world knows nothing of their wants, as little doth it care. Yes, in this land of Gospel light, with sorrow be it told, The breath of charity, alas! is miserably cold; In this, the richest land beneath the canopy of heaven, . . Oh, how little after all in charity is given. "We have our houses where the poor unfortunate may go, , x . . Till death shall kindly intervene and terminate their woe; 'Tis sad to struggle on though life and many a hardship brave, And have no brighter prospect than to nil a pauper's grave. Drawn by the current of events the peasant leaves behind His rural life, because he fails a livelihood to find; There in the busy city he must either smk or rise, The struggle for existence thus he more intensifies. There in the most luxurious style the wealthy gad about, And there the wretched sons of want in misery turnout, . Seething humanity pass on through life m rapid pace, There life to many thousands seems but a wildgoose chase. Hugh Thompson. Rothesay (Scotland).