In the city of suffering souls grow large,
And money-greed languishing lies;
’Neath the hurrying feet, of God’s messengers there,
That pompous, old Selfishness dies:
Ambition, so eagerly climbing to heights
Where glory, alone, is the prize,
Forgets his wild dreams at the shriek of distress
And goes where Humanity cries.
In the city of suffering, sympathies blend
As valley rills, blend in a stream;
The high, and the low, all forgetful of rank,
Are thrilled by calamity’s scream.
There Wealth’s jeweled hand and the toil-hardened palm,
Have neither a preference in claim,
But agony ardently stretching them forth,
Makes common appeal, in His name.
In the city of suffering hearts grow warm—
Aye, flame in the darkness of woe;
The spark God gave, from His infinite love,
Neath the hot breath of pain is aglow.
There, swift to the rescue, goes valorous strength,
Surprising the world with his deeds—
There, Courage will struggle with death for a life,
While yielding his own up, if needs.
In the city of Suffering, Avarice hides
In the gloomy old vault with his gold,
Nor dares to meet Charity’s love-lighted face,
His own is so pitiless and cold;
There, cowardice, envy—all drosses of soul
In the crucial test are consumed—
Dark altars, once glowing with brotherly love,
In the shadow of sorrow, relumed.
The city of Suffering is Heaven’s wide door
For victims its horrors enthrall;
E’en martyrs have sung when the fagots blazed high—
So ever He heareth our call;
And those who, with fellow-love prompting their deeds,
Fought there, with the mounting flame fiends,
Have wrought in the plan, for ennobling the world,
With God’s own, mysterious means.
In the city of Suffering souls break the bonds
That indolent selfishness forged in the womb,
And lives, that were dwarfed by their mammon-cut groove,
Find growth in Love’s labor, and sunshine in gloom.
When raven-winged Sorrow sweeps over the land,
An angel attends where its shadow may fall,
And, out from its darkness, brings heavenly light,
And faith, in the Wisdom, that’s over us all.