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HIDDEN THINGS SHALL BE REVEALED

Not understood, we move along, asunder,
Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep
Along the years; we marvel and we wonder
Why life is life, and then we fall asleep,
Not understood.

Not understanding, we gain false impressions,
And hug them closer as the years go by,
Till virtues often seem to us transgressions;
And thus men rise and fall and live and die
Not understood.

Not understanding, souls with stunted vision
Oft measure giants by their narrow gauge;
The poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision
Are oft impelled ‘gainst those who mould the age,
Not understood.

Not understood, the secret springs of action
Which lie beneath the surface and the show
Are disregarded; with self-satisfaction
We judge our neighbors, and they often go,
Not understood.

Not understood, how trifles often change us;
The thoughtless sentence or the fancied slight
Destroys long years of friendship and estrange us,
And on our souls there falls a freezing blight—
Not understood.

Not understood, how many hearts are aching
For lack of sympathy! Ah! day by day
How many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking,
How many noble spirits pass away
Not understood!

Oh, God! that men would see a little clearer,
Or judge less hardly when they cannot see!
Oh, God! that men would draw a little nearer
To one another! They’d be nearer Thee,
And understood.

THOMAS BRACKEN.

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— December 1, 1910 —