ONE day I saw two children playing,
A brother and a sister, they;
And each to each such words were saying
As only happy children say.
‘Twas spring, and scarce a shade of sadness
Upon the landscape one could find;
The children’s faces shone with gladness,
But he, alas! poor boy, was blind.
For him I sighed — with little reason —
‘Twas I alone, not he, was sad;
The boy was joyous as the season,
And with his gentle sister glad;
His pleasing face was ever smiling,
And he her play return’d with glee,
The fleeting moments both beguiling,
Though happier of the two was he.
I oft have made the observation,
That they who’re blind the blithest seem;
Though I can give no explanation
Why joy should on their faces beam;
Except that God in His compassion,
To give them special joy doth choose,
And cheers their hearts in such a fashion
As they know not, who’ve eyes to use.
My heart was cheer’d with this reflection,
And, as I then pursued my way,
“The ways of God are all perfection,”
Adoringly, I could but say;
And while I was this truth confessing,
This pray’r I with it did unite: —
“May God give that kind sister blessing,
And thee, dear boy, His heavenly light!”
T.