Humanity

Ah me! how little knows the human heart, The pleasing task of soft'ning other's woe; Stranger to joys, that pity can impart, And tears sweet sympathy can teach to flow. If e'er I've mourn'd my humble, lowly state; If e'er I've bow'd my knee at fortune's shrine; If e'er a wish escap'd me, to be great, The fervent pray'r, humanity, was thine. Pity the man, who hears the moving tale Unmov'd, to whom the heart-felt glow's unknown; On whom the widow's plaints could ne'er prevail, Nor made the injur'd wretch's cause his own. How little knows he th' extatic joy, The thrilling bliss of chearing wan despair; How little knows the pleasing, warm employ, That calls the grateful tribute of a tear. The splendid dome, the vaulted roof to rear, The glare of pride and pomp, be grandeur thine; To wipe from mis'ry's eye the wailing tear, And soothe th' oppressed orphan's woes, be mine. Be mine the blush of modest worth to spare, To change to smiles affliction's rising sigh; The kindred warmth of charity to share, Till joy shall sparkle from the tear-fill'd eye. Can the loud laugh, the mirth inspiring bowl, The dance, or choral song, or jocund glee, Affect the glowing, sympathizing soul, Or warm the breast, humanity, like thee?