Blessed Are They Poem. It is better then to weep and yearn and vainly call, till peace is won from pain, than not to grieve at all! Blessed be those that mourn.
When i spilled tea that weary day. Blessed are they who are pleasant to live with—blessed are they who sing in the morning;whose faces have smiles for their early adorning;who come down to breakfast companioned by cheer;who don't. Blessed are they who understand my faltering step and shaking hand.
Blessed are they who know my ears today must strain to hear the things they say. If you liked blessed are they that mourn poem by william cullen bryant page. Are promises of happier years.
For they shall inherit the earth. The power who pities man, hath shown. When coffee spilled at table today.
That my eyes are dim and my wits are slow. And weary hours of woe and pain. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
And grief may bide an. To bring back memories of yesterday. Are promises of happier years.
Blessed are they who know my ears today must strain to hear the things they say. Yea, truly, though joy's note be sweet, life does not thrill to joy alone. Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep;
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