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Poem
There are some,
from birth are marked by melancholy,
The silent shades of sorrow,
are their congenial haunts.
The glades of grief are the only places,
their leaf can flourish.
Others, who through some crushing misfortune, 
Being brought so low,
never holding up their heads again,
but go, mourning all the way to their silent graves.
 
Some, again,
disappointed in their early youth, 
Either in some fond object of their affections, 
or else in some project of their young ambitions.
Never can dare to face the world, 
Shrinking from contact with their fellows,
Curling up their tendrils like the sensitive plant. 

In all flocks,
there must be lambs,
The weak and wounded sheep.
Even among the flock of God, the Elect
It is the duty, of those of us,
who are freer than others,
Who found liberation from despondency of spirit.
Be very tender to the weak ones. 

Far be it,
from the man of courageous disposition,
Being hard on those.
timid and despairing! 
If we have a lion-like spirit,
let's not imitate the king of beasts,
Expressing cruelty,
on those timid fallow deer that fly before them.
Let us place our strength at their service,
Reaching out to help in protection of them. .

With downy fingers,
bind up the wounded heart,
On our hands, 
gloves and bandage,
Being there nourishing their fainting spirits! 

In this walk of life, 
let the unwounded warriors bear their injured comrades to the rear. 
bathe their wounds,
cover them from the storm of war.
Being gentle to those who are desponding! 

Some deal with others,
roughly handed thoughtlessness,
"Ah," they say,
"if such a one is so foolish as to be sensitive, let him be."
Being sensitive,
timid and desponding is ill enough in itself,
without us being hard,
and cruel towards those who are so afflicted!

Go forth and do to others,
As you would that others should,
in your hours of despondency, 
deal with you tenderly and comfortably, 
so, deal tenderly and comfortably with them.
Lambs, wounded sheep,
Christ died for each one of them.
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