347. Daughters of pity, tune the lay

1 Daughters of pity, tune the lay;
To mourners joy belongs;
While he, that wipes all our tears away,
Accepts our thankful songs.

2 No altars smoke, no off'rings bleed,
No guiltless lives expire;
To help a brother in his need,
Is all our rites require.

3 Our off'ring is a willing mind
To comfort the distrust;
In others' good our own we find,
In others' blessing blest.

4 Go to the pillow of disease,
Where night gives no repose,
And on the cheek, where sickness preys,
Bid health to plant a rose.

5 Go where the friendless stranger lies;
To perish is his doom:
Snatch from the grave his closing eyes,
And bring his blessing home.

6 Thus, what our heav'nly Father gave,
Shall we as freely give;
Thus copy him, who liv'd to save,
And died that we might live.

Text Information
First Line: Daughters of pity, tune the lay
Meter: C. M.
Publication Date: 1827
Topic: Social Duties
Tune Information
(No tune information)

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