'Tis Hard to Give the Hand Where the Heart Can Never Be.
Tho' I mingle in the throng of the happy and the gay.
From the mirth of dance and song I would fain be far away;
For I love to use no wile, and I can but deem it sin
That the brow would wear a smile when the soul is sad within;
Tho' a parent's stern command claims obedience from me.
Oh! 'tis hard to give the hand where the heart can never be;
Oh! 'tis hard to give the band where the heart can never be;
I have sighed and suffered long, yet have never told my grief,
in the hope that for my wrong time itself will find relief.
I will own no rebel thought, and I will not wear the chain
That for me must still be fraught with but misery and pain;
In all else I will be bland, but in this I must be free.
And I will not give the band where the heart can never be,
And I will not give the hand where the heart can never be.