JUNE 7, 1877 br br ANGEL of love, for every grief br Its soothing balm thy mercy brings, br For every pang its healing leaf, br For homeless want, thine outspread, wings. br br Enough for thee the pleading eye, br The knitted brow of silent pain; br The portals open to a sigh br Without the clank of bolt or chain. br br Who is our brother? He that lies br Left at the wayside, bruised and sore br His need our open hand supplies, br His welcome waits him at our door. br br Not ours to ask in freezing tones br His race, his calling, or his creed; br Each heart the tie of kinship owns, br When those are human veins that bleed. br br Here stand the champions to defend br From every wound that flesh can feel; br Here science, patience, skill, shall blend br To save, to calm, to help, to heal. br br Father of Mercies! Weak and frail, br Thy guiding hand Thy children ask; br Let not the Great Physician fail br To aid us in our holy task.