(Found among the papers of our beloved brother, J. W. Penfield, after his departure to be "with Christ.")
"Once I heard a note of sweetness
As it deft the morning air,
Sounding in its blest completeness
Like a tender, pleading prayer.
Then I sought to find the singer
Whence the wondrous song was borne;—
And I found a bird sore wounded,
Pinioned by a cruel thorn.
"I have seen a soul in sadness
While its wings with pain were furled,
Giving hope, and cheer, and gladness
That should bless a 'weeping world.
And I knew that life of sweetness
Was of grief and sorrow born:—
And a stricken soul was singing
With its heart against a thorn.
"Ye are told of One who loved you,
Of a Savior crucified;
Ye are told of nails that pinioned,
Of a spear that pierced His side.
Ye are told of cruel scourgings,
Of a Savior bearing scorn;
And He died for your salvation,
With His brow against a thorn!
"Ye are not above the Master!
Will you breathe a sweet refrain?
And His grace will be sufficient
When your heart is pierced with pain.
Will you live to bless His loved ones,
Though your life be bruised and torn?—
Like the bird that sang so sweetly,
With its heart against a thorn!”