_THE NOBLEST GRACE_
_'Tis something, when the day draws to its close,
To say, "Tho' I have borne a burdened mind,
Have tasted neither pleasure nor repose,
Yet this remains--to all men, friends or foes,
I have been kind."_
_'Tis something, when I hear Death's awful tread
Upon the stair, that his swift eye shall find
Upon my heart old wounds that often bled
For others, but no heart I injurèd--
I have been kind._
_Praise will not comfort me when I am dead;
Yet should one come, by tenderness inclined,
My heart would know if he stooped o'er my bed
And kissed my lips for memory, and said
"This man was kind."_
_O Lord, when from Thy throne Thou judgest me,
Remember, tho' I was perverse and blind,
My heart went out to men in misery,
I gave what little store I had to Thee,
My life was kind._
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