Classic Poem

O, LET me soothe thy troubled mind!
To thee shall soon be given
That joy which leaves no sting behind;
For soon thy aching heart shall find
The hope which leads to heaven.

Then shall thy cheek, now pale with care,
By sorrow's tempests riven,
Assume a hue more bright, more fair,
Than earthly joy e'er planted there,—
The light which comes from heaven.

The light which virtue sheds on those
Who in her cause have striven,
Around, a deathless lustre throws,
And gives the heart that sweet repose,—
The peace which comes from heaven.