In our sad days it is a woman's part
To keep alive the things that ease the soul,
All music and delight. It is her role
To pour out lovely songs to fill the heart
With tenderness again, and hopeful start
The hymnal in the church; amid the whole
Of dark, confusing time out of control
To sing, and let not loveliness depart.
Unfaltering faith is difficult to keep
When futile tears fall on the changeless earth
And still are dried by the recurrent sun.
Mankind may perish if its women weep
Too much, too long. We will allow no dearth
Of Song; there is much singing to be done.
Manuscripts: Vol. 9
, Article 10.
Retrieved from: https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol9/iss4/10