These Things Shall Never Die
By Charles Dickens
The pure, the bright, the beautiful,
That stirred our hearts in youth,
The impulses to wordless prayer,
The dreams of love and truth;
The longing after something's lost,
The spirit's yearning cry,
The striving after better hopes—
These things can never die.
The timid hand stretched forth to aid
A brother in his need,
A kindly word in grief's dark hour
That proves a friend indeed;
The plea for mercy softly breathed,
When justice threatens nigh,
The sorrow of a contrite heart—
These things shall never die.
Let nothing pass for every hand
Must find some work to do;
Lose not a chance to waken love—
Be firm, and just, and true;
So shall a light that cannot fade
Beam on thee from on high.
And angel voices say to thee—
These things shall never die.