WE all might do good
Where we often do ill;
There is always the way,
If we have but the will;
Though it be but a word
Kindly breathed or supprest,
It may guard off some pain,
Or give peace to some breast.
We all might do good
In a thousand small ways--
In forbearing to flatter,
Yet yielding _due_ praise--
In spurning ill humour,
Reproving wrong done,
And treating but kindly
Each heart we have won.
We all might do good,
Whether lowly or great,
For the deed is not gauged
By the purse or estate;
If it be but a cup
Of cold water that's given,
Like “the widow's two mites,”
It is something for Heaven.