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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420483" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Divine Compassion</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long since, a dream of heaven I had,<br>And still the vision haunts me oft;<br>I see the saints in white robes clad,<br>The martyrs with their palms aloft;<br>But hearing still, in middle song,<br>The ceaseless dissonance of wrong;<br>And shrinking, with hid faces, from the strain<br>Of sad, beseeching eyes, full of remorse and pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The glad song falters to a wail,<br>The harping sinks to low lament;<br>Before the still unlifted veil<br>I see the crowned foreheads bent,<br>Making more sweet the heavenly air,<br>With breathings of unselfish prayer;<br>And a Voice saith: 'O Pity which is pain,<br>O Love that weeps, fill up my sufferings which remain!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Shall souls redeemed by me refuse<br>To share my sorrow in their turn?<br>Or, sin-forgiven, my gift abuse<br>Of peace with selfish unconcern?<br>Has saintly ease no pitying care?<br>Has faith no work, and love no prayer?<br>While sin remains, and souls in darkness dwell,<br>Can heaven itself be heaven, and look unmoved on hell?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then through the Gates of Pain, I dream,<br>A wind of heaven blows coolly in;<br>Fainter the awful discords seem,<br>The smoke of torment grows more thin,<br>Tears quench the burning soil, and thence<br>Spring sweet, pale flowers of penitence<br>And through the dreary realm of man's despair,<br>Star-crowned an angel walks, and to! God's hope is there!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is it a dream? Is heaven so high<br>That pity cannot breathe its air?<br>Its happy eyes forever dry,<br>Its holy lips without a prayer!<br>My God! my God! if thither led<br>By Thy free grace unmerited,<br>No crown nor palm be mine, but let me keep<br>A heart that still can feel, and eyes that still can weep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420483" data-title="Divine Compassion de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="Long since, a dream of heaven I had,
And still the vision haunts me oft;
I see the saints in white robes clad,
The martyrs with their palms aloft;
But hearing still, in middle song,
The ceaseless dissonance of wrong;
And shrinking, with hid faces,..."></div>
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