I lay in sorrow, deep distressed;
My grief a proud man heard;
His looks were cold, he gave me gold;
But not a kindly word.
My sorrow passed - I paid him back
The gold he gave to me;
Then stood erect and spoke my thanks
And blessed his charity.
I lay in want, and grief, and pain;
A poor man passed my way;
He bound my head, he gave me bread,
He watched me night and day.
How shall I pay him back again
For all he did to me ?
Oh, gold is great, but greater far
Is heavenly sympathy.
✍️ Charles Mackay
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