by Gerald Massey.
Originally published in The Leader (Joseph Clatton, junr.) vol.1 #25 (14 Sep 1850).
There lives a voice within me, a guest-angel of my heart,
And its sweet lispings win me till the tears do often start.
Up evermore it springeth like hidden melody,
And evermore it singeth this song of songs to me:—
"This world is full of Beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty it might be full of Love!"
Night's starry tenderness doth dower with glory evermore;
Morn's budding, bright, melodious hour comes sweetly as of yore!
But there be million hearts accurst where no sweet sunbursts shine,
And there be million hearts athirst for God's immortal wine;
Yet this world is full of Beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty it might be full of Love!
If men were more forgiving, and the kind word oft'ner spoken,
There might be few heart-grieving, there might be few heart-broken;
The dreary, dim, and desolate would wear a sunny bloom,
And Love would spring from buried Hate like flowers o'er Winter's tomb;
For this world is full of Beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty it might be full of Love!
There's Plenty round us smiling, why wakes this cry for bread?
Why are the millions toiling, crushed, and clad in rags, unfed?
All the sunny hills and valleys wear the blush of fruit and grain;
But the lordling in the palace robs his own life's brother-men.
Oh, this world is full of Beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty it might be full of Love!
If trustful faith and kindness passed coin 'twixt heart and heart,
How thro' the eyes' tear-blindness the sudden soul should start;
Were Truth our uttered language, angels might talk with men,
And God-illumined Earth should see the Golden Age again!
For this world is full of Beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty it might be full of Love!
Dear God! what hosts are trampled 'mid this killing crush for gold!
What noble hearts are sapped of love—what spirits lose life's hold!
And yet upon this God-blessed earth there's space for every one,
Millions of acres wait the seed, and food rots in the sun.
Oh! this world is full of Beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty it might be full of Love!
The leaf-tongues of the forest, the flower-lips of the sod,
The birds that hymn their raptures into the ear of God,
And the living wind that bringeth low soft music from the sea,
Have each a voice that singeth this sweet song of songs for me:—
"This world is full of Beauty as other worlds above,
And if we did our duty it might be full of Love!"