by Charles Dickens
The pure.the bright,the beautiful,
That stirred our hearts in youth,
The impulses to wordless prayer,
The dreams of love and truth;
The longing after something's 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,
A kindly word in grief's dark hour
That proves a friend indeed ;
The plea for mercy softly breathed,
When justice threatens nigh,
The sorrow of a contrite heart-
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.
