I wish the heart that's hungry
For better things in store,
Would find within its portals
An item on the floor.
That melancholy mortals
Could count their mercies o'er,
And ask of truth and wisdom
One little item more.
That when a wrong is done us
It stirs no thought of strife;
But love become the substance,
As item, of our life.
That if we've done to others
Some good ne'er told before,
When angels may repeat it
T' will have an item more.
That every ragged urchin
With bare feet soiled and sore,
May find God's tender mercies
An item at our door.
