Unit Sympathy I lay in sorrow deep depressed... 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 me. Then stood erect and spoke my thanks And blessed his charity... I lay in want, in 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!
By Charles Mackay