Angel of love, for ev­ery grief
Its sooth­ing balm thy mer­cy brings,
For ev­ery pang its heal­ing leaf,
For home­less want, thine out­spread, wings.

Enough for thee the plead­ing eye,
The knit­ted brow of si­lent pain;
The por­tals op­en to a sigh
Without the clank of bolt or chain.

Who is our bro­ther? He that lies
Left at the way­side, bruised and sore:
His need our op­en hand sup­plies,
His wel­come waits him at our door.

Not ours to ask in freez­ing tones
His race, his call­ing, or his creed;
Each heart the tie of kin­ship owns,
When those are hu­man veins that bleed.

Here stand the cham­pi­ons to de­fend
From ev­ery wound that flesh can feel;
Here sci­ence, pa­tience, skill, shall blend
To save, to calm, to help, to heal.

Father of Mer­cies! Weak and frail,
Thy guid­ing hand Thy child­ren ask;
Let not the Great Phy­si­cian fail
To aid us in our ho­ly task.

Source of all truth, and love, and light,
That warm and cheer our earth­ly days,
Be ours to serve Thy will aright,
Be Thine the glo­ry and the praise!