To sit alone with a friend at ease,
And talk or not, just as you please,
Yet in deep silence to understand,
To feel the clasp of a friendly hand.

Though tired and weary, worn with care,
Or in the depths of dark despair,
What comfort just to reach out your hand
And clasp another's who understands.

The golden rays of the rising sun,
The sacred hues of day, now done,
Are glorious made by the unseen hands
Of one great Friend who understands.

The crowds may hurry,move swiftly on,
And melt in nightly silence, gone;
Let me but clasp the steadying hands
Of one true friend who understands.

Rt.Wor.Bro.Charles Fotheringham.