Southward, and landed in Norfolk, Virginia.

Pestilence there was doing its worst,

Hundreds were dying, and hundreds were dead.

Many who should have been bravest, the first

Had deserted their trust, and shamelessly fled.

But men from the Northern cities were there,

Nursing the sick with the tenderest care,

Whose kindred had fled to less dangerous lands,

Leaving the dying to strangers’ hands.

Page 52.

While the two stood quiet beside the bed

Of a patient sufferer, Charity said:

“Who hath sent these strangers here,

These dying men to soothe and cheer?

To do what mortal skill may do

To lighten their burdens of grief and woe;

To shrive these dying souls of blame,

To bid them hope in Heaven above.

Who hath sent these in my dear name

To do this holiest work of love?

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