Sonnet [To a Friend Afflicted with Deafness.]

Not without mercy, and for our high good,
    Doth God withhold his bounties, or bestow;
     Giving or taking, He doth ever show
Wisdom and goodness, though not understood
By every spirit in its erring mood;
     If to thee, Friend, it is not given to know
     The “concord of sweet sounds,” or the soft flow
Of Nature’s harmonies in field or wood,
Abuse not God,—but with a loving heart
     Praise him for that he hath bestowed a soul
Attuned to kindness,—so perform its part
     In the “eternal melodies” which roll
Around his throne, whereof all pure desires
And thoughts, are wonders caught by Earth’s diviner lyre.