Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/158

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WHO IS MY NEIGHBOUR?
Where hunger cries, and shivering winds Wail round the shattered door,Their willing step an entrance finds To bless the helpless poor.
The Doers of the Word I sing, Who with a generous heartTheir sacrifice to duty bring, And well perform their part;Nor parley they with weak excuse, Nor at their lot repine,But give, and say, This Heaven may use, For it is Heaven's, not mine.
Ye dreamers wild! eschew the trance Which fond illusion weaves,And spurn the idle thought that chance Will bring you golden sheaves.But when the loud alarm is rung, To action prompt be stirred,And wrestle strong to rank among The Doers of the Word.
Who Is My Neighbour?
Thy neighbour? It is he whom thou Hast power to aid and bless;Whose aching heart and burning brow Thy soothing hand may press.
Thy neighbour? 'Tis the fainting poor, Whose eye with want is dim,Whom hunger sends from door to door;— Go thou and succour him.
Thy neighbour? 'Tis that weary man, Whose years are at their brim,Bent low with sickness, care, and pain;— Go thou and succour him.
Thy neighbour? 'Tis the heart bereft Of every earthly gem;Widow and orphan, helpless left;— Go thou and shelter them.
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