Unspoken Words

THE kindly words that rise within the heart, And thrill it with their sympathetic tone, But die ere spoken, fail to play their part, And claim a merit that is not their own. The kindly word unspoken is a sin,— A sin that wraps itself in purest guise, And tells the heart that, doubting, looks within, That not in speech, but thought, the virtue lies. But 'tis not so: another heart may thirst For that kind word, as Hagar in the wild— Poor banished Hagar!—prayed a well might burst From out the sand to save her parching child. And loving eyes that cannot see the mind Will watch the expected movement of the lip: Ah! can ye let its cutting silence wind Around that heart, and scathe it like a whip? Unspoken words, like treasures in the mine, Are valueless until we give them birth: Like unfound gold their hidden beauties shine, Which God has made to bless and gild the earth. How sad 'twould be to see a master's hand Strike glorious notes upon a voiceless lute! But oh! what pain when, at God's own command, A heart-string thrills with kindness, but is mute! Then hide it not, the music of the soul. Dear sympathy, expressed with kindly voice, But let it like a shining river roll To deserts dry,—to hearts that would rejoice. Oh! let the symphony of kindly words Sound for the poor, the friendless, and the weak; And he will bless you,—he who struck these chords Will strike another when in turn you seek.