'Tis said, affliction's deepest sting

Some token of its pain will bring

In tears of bitter flow;

But they who thus judge sorrow's smart,

Know not the pang that wrings the heart,

With withering tearless woe!

The scorching grief that blasts the fount,

And dries its tears, ere yet they mount,

To soothe the burning eye;

That speeds the blood with torrent force

Through every bursting vein to course,

Yet leave each life-track dry!

The grief that binds with rankling chain

Each feeling of the heart and brain,

Save sternness and despair;

And crushes with relentless hand

Each hope religion's trust had planned,

Planting rebellion there!

Such grief, not one of these have known,

Who say that flowing tears alone

Proclaim the bosom's throes!

Tears are the tokens God designed

For lighter griefs of heart and mind,

Such as pure child-life knows;

And therefore, hath He so ordained

That infant-tears be not restrained,

But lightly caused to flow,

That these, who cannot tell their grief,

Shall find in weeping, such relief

As manhood may not know!