Classic Poem

If you have a word of cheer,
That will light the pathway drear
Of a pilgrim sister here,
Tell her so.
Tell her you appreciate
What she does and do not wait
Till the heavy hand of fate
Lays her low.
If your heart contains a thought,
That will brighter make her lot,
Then in mercy, hide it not —
Tell her so.
Wait not till your friend is dead,
Ere your compliments are said,
For the spirit that has fled,
(If it knows)
Does not need, where it has gone,
That poor praise to speed it on;
There love's endless, golden dawn,
Is a glow.
But unto our sister here
That poor praise is very dear;
If you have a word of cheer,