twenty-one weeks without a post, my bad

[khyrand]

The pure, the bright, the beautiful
That stirred our hearts in youth,
The impulses to wordless prayer,
The streams of love and truth.
The longing after something lost,
The spirit's yearning cry;
The striving after better hopes,
These things can never die.

The timid hand stretched forth to aid
A brother in his need,
The kindly word in grief's dark hour
That proves a friend indeed.
The plea for mercy softly breath'd
When justice threatens nigh;
The sorrow of a contrite heart,
These things shall never die.

The memory of a clasping hand,
The pressure of a kiss,
And all the trifles sweet and frail
That makes up love's first bliss.
If with a firm, unchanging faith,
And holy trust and high,
Those hands have clasp'd, those lips have met,
These things shall never die.

The cruel and the bitter word
That wounded as it fell,
The chilling want of sympathy
We feel, but never tell.
The hard repulse that chills the heart,
Whose hopes were bounding high,
In an unfading record kept,
These things shall never die.

Let nothing pass, for every hand
Must find some work to do;
Lose not a chance to waken love,
Be firm and just and true.
So shall a light that cannot fade
Beam on thee from on high,
And angel voices say to thee,
These things shall never die.

~Sarah Doudney, "Imperishable"

(Often falsely attributed to Charles Dickens.
Nicely set to music by Lee Dengler; badly-sung performances can be watched on youtube.)