O Pusillanimous Heart, Be Comforted And, Like

Oh, The Little Birds Sang East, And The Little Birds Sang West.

The Soul's Rialto Hath Its Merchandise, I Barter For Curl Upon That Mart.

When God Helps All The Workers For His World, The Singers Shall Have Help Of Him, Not Last.

A Child's Kiss Set On Thy Sighing Lips Shall Make Thee Glad; A Poor Man Served By Thee Shall Make Thee Rich; A Sick Man Helped By Thee Shall Make Thee Strong; Thou Shalt Be Served Thyself By Every Sense Of Service Which Thou Renderest.

What Monster Have We Here? A Great Deed At This Hour Of Day? A Great Just Deed - And Not For Pay? Absurd - Or Insincere?