Oh ! turn not from the weeping one
Whose heart is wrung with grief,
A tender look, a soothing word,
Might give that heart relief.

Nay, turn not from the weeping one,
For oh! ye little know
How bitter was the agony
That caused those tears to flow.

We are not always happiest
When we are heard to sing;
The gayest notes we warble
May thoughts of sadness bring.

The step elastic still may be,
The lip a smile impart,
And joy seem sparkling in the eye
While sorrow rends the heart.

Then turn not from the weeping one,
Whose heart with grief oppressed,
Would lose its anguish for a while
On pity's gentle breast.

Nay, turn not from the weeping one,
For little do ye know
How bitter was the agony
That caused those tears to flow.