We took our place. The voiceless sympathy 

 The tear, the tender pressure of the hand 

 Interpreted more perfectly than words 

 The purpose of our soul. 

 We speak to err, 

 Waking to agony some broken chord 

 Or bleeding nerve that slumbered. Words are weak, 

 When God's strong discipline doth try the soul; 

 And that deep silence was more eloquent 

 Than all the pomp of speech. 

 Yet the long pause 

 Of days and nights, gave scope for troubled thought 

 And their bewildered minds unskillfully 

 Launching all helmless on a sea of doubt 

 Explored the cause for which such woes were sent, 

 Forgetful that this mystery of life 

 Yields not to man's solution. Passing on 

 From natural pity to philosophy 

 That deems Heaven's judgments penal, they inferr'd 

 Some secret sin unshrived by penitence, 

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