Classic Poem

O SAY not we through life must struggle,
Must toil, must mourn, alone;
That no one beating heart can answer
The throbbings of our own!

The sky with its own celestial hues
Ever paints the sea below;
And the sea sends up its mists to form
Bright clouds and the heavenly bow.

The stars look down from the holy heaven
Into the earthly stream,
And see themselves in the quiet depths
With softer beauty gleam.

Thus all things do of their own beauty
Each with some other share;
And thus a lesson of loving duty
To all men's hearts they bear.

Alone amid life's griefs and perils,
The stoutest soul might quail,
Left to its own unaided efforts,
The strongest arm might fail.

And though all strength still comes from heaven,
All light from God above,
Yet we may sometimes be his angels,
Apostles of his love.

Then let us learn to help each other,
As on life's path we wend:
Who sees in every man a brother
Shall never want a friend.