There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey
down life-s way.
And I seem to see more pathos in poor human
Lives each day.
I-m sorry for the strong brave men, who shield
the weak from harm,
But who, in their own troubled hours find no
Protecting arm.

I-m sorry for the victors who have reached
success, to stand
As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure-s
I-m sorry for the generous hearts who freely
shared their wine,
But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune-s
drear decline.

I-m sorry for the souls who build their own fame-s
funeral pyre,
Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding
I-m sorry for the conquering ones tho know not
sin-s defeat,
But daily tread down fierce desire -neath scorched
and bleeding feet.

I-m sorry for the anguished hearts that break with
passions strain,
But I-m sorrier for the poor starved souls that
Never knew love-s pain.
Who hunger on through barren years not tasting
joys they crave,
For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o-er a

I-m sorry for the souls that come unwelcomed
into birth,
I-m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the
I-m sorry for the suffering poor in life-s great
maelstrom hurled,
In truth I-m sorry for them all who make this
aching world.

But underneath whate-er seems sad and is not
I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty
germ of good.
And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon,
motto, text -
The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest
in the next.