Feel for the Eyes that are Weeping.
By J. McCarthy, of Logan City, Utah.
Feel for the eyes that are weeping
With anguish, here below;
Through their falling tears they're reading
The pangs of others' woe.
But there is no woe that's lasting
While love here guides our way;
Although all our's seemed blasting,
They all must pass away.
Oh! feel for the pure and lowly
Who is destined to roam
Through scenes unholy,
Without a friend or home.
He receives no smile of greeting
To cheer him on his way;
While love's dear hopes are fleeting,
His footsteps go astray.
Feel for the silent sorrow
That suffers all alone,
For the only joy they borrow
Is from our God alone.
When domestic joys are waning,
And love is growing cold,
Oh! the soul within is dreaming
Of sorrows then untold.
When our household gales are blowing.
And darkness veils our skies,
Oh! then salt tears are flowing,
And raining from our eyes.
We'll drink of the stream that's coming
Through hope's bright fountain clear;
Down through many hills it's running
To love's bright happy sphere.