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From The Birmingham Age-Herald, June 12, 1914. By Walter Malone.

When I am bowed with grief, let me not say,
“Lord, I am cheered in my adversity
To know that countless thousands in this world
Today are bowed with burdens heavier
Than those allotted unto me.” Let not
The selfish thought that hearts of others ache
With pangs more poignant than mine own be made
A balm to soothe me to contentedness.
No, rather let me say, “Though I am thrall
To sorrow, it is comfort unto me
To know that countless others at this hour
Are glad of heart. I thank Thee that my gloom
Eclipses not the noontide of their joy.”
O brother, though my heart be desolate,
Lonely and dreary, let my solace be
To know that in Thy house is warmth and love,
Dancing and feasting, and the sound of mirth;
Yes, brother, let my worthier comfort be to know
Thy path is bright though mine is dark.

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