The pure, the bright,the beautiful
That stirred our hearts in youth;
The impulses to wordless prayer,
The streams of love and truth;
The longing after something lost,
The spirit's yearning cry;
The striving after better hopes...
These things can never die.
The timid hand stretched forth to aid
A brother in his need;
A kindly word in grief's dark hour
That proves a friend indeed;
The plea for mercy softly breathed
When justice threatens high;
The sorrow of a contrite heart...
These things shall never die.
Let nothing pass, for every hand
Must find some work to do;
Lose not a chance to waken love;
Be firm and just and true;
So shall a light that cannot fade
Beam on thee from on high,
And angel voices say to thee...
"These things shall never die."

--Charles Dickens