Sometimes the city's frantic bustle
takes on a poignancy;
the people seem to pass and pass
untouched by hints of love.
Perhaps I feel a listless twinge
of saddened sympathy.
And yet, on sensing aimlessness
beneath the outward rush,
I know this vague unhappiness
is not to be accepted.
To shake off thoughtless sympathy
I strive toward compassion.
On these same crowded streets
I sense new spaciousness,
new liveliness, purpose, grace:
I now see all in God.
With freshened smile and brightened eyes,
I let thought brim with prayer
that all these lives shall be filled full
with His fulfilling love.
And passing hours shall overflow
with "pleasures . . . evermore."
