It is sad to be lonely, when others are gay,
With a cloud o'er the heart to eclipse pleasure's ray;
It is sad to be nursing our sorrows alone,
Or sighing for pleasures long faded and gone.
'Tis sad to see coming the troubles we dread,
While a dark boding future hangs over our heads;
Tho' often the storm-cloud that darkens our sky
Seems darker approaching than when it is nigh.
When the sharp pang of anguish has entered the soul,
Mirth loses its power to cheer or condole,
And we turn from the gay to indulge in our sadness,
Whilst light-hearted laughter seems folly and madness.
The heart oft has sorrows unknown to the world,
And its flag of distress may be seldom unfurled,
For 'tis better to suffer than loosely reveal
A feeling to others, which others don't feel.
The heart often bleeds while the forced flickering smile
Is borrowed to light up the features the while,
As they only who feel can with sympathy blend
The reciprocal tear with a heart-broken friend.
There is One, and but one, who can give us relief,
He bore all our sorrows, He knows all our grief;
Let us go to this Friend, and our sorrows make known,
And He'll cheer our lone hearts by revealing his own.
