Never a moment in the dusty street,
But conscious of a guiding hand that cheers:
When striving in the City's noise and heat,
Knowing of drooping joys or darkened tears,
To feel the breath of Heavenly Love inflow,
And emanate, to heal this City's woe.
Never a moment fraught with human pain,
At seeming loss of some unworthy friend,
Or rising of some darling face again
To taunt that brightest days must have an end,
But some great promise, mounting like a star,
Will shed its radiance o'er the things that are.
No "goodbye" whispered with the voice that breaks;
No wild embrace that seems to rock the brain;
Nor anguished kiss the lover's parting makes,
Nor dying souls that through the night complain,
But in the East the golden morning breaks,
And 'neath the lattice some sweet bird awakes!