DERE is a rest-place for de weary feet,
\nAn’ for de bitter cup a conquering sweet:
\nFor sore an’ burdened hearts dere’ll be a balm,
\nAnd after days of tempest comes a calm.<\/p>\n
For every smallest wrong dere is a right,
\nAn’ t’rough de dark shall gleam a ray of light:
\nOppression for a season may endure,
\nBut ’tis true wud, “For ebery ill a cure.”<\/p>\n
Den let me not t’ink hard of those who use
\nDeir power tyrannously an’ abuse:
\nLet me remember always while I live,
\nDe noblest of all deeds is to forgive.<\/p>\n
This, not revenge, is sweet: this lif’s[1]<\/sup><\/a> de soul
\nAn’ meks it wort’ while[2]<\/sup><\/a> in a empty wul’:
\nFar better than an old an’ outworn creed
\n‘Tis each day to do one such noble deed.<\/p>\n