Of all the joys which life affords, From childhood’s sunny morning, Until the paling western sky Of night’s approach gives warning, There’s none that springs so swift and sure, Delights less pure to smother, As that which thrills and warms the heart When helping one another.
If days and nights seem born to us
To be consumed by sorrow; If hourly we have vainly craved A happier to-morrow; If from ourselves we loving turn To some pain-stricken brother, The sorriest night finds dawning bright With helping one another.
‘Tis selfish grief that deadliest clings;
But, Christ-like lessons heeding, We’ll find life’s devious, onward way To sunnier heights still leading; Till when these bodies, weak an worn, Have sought the common mother, Our souls more joyful sing and soar For having helped each other.