The Beauty of Courage And Grace

To My Patrons

Ye favored thousands of our happy land,
Who, blest with health with peace and competence,
Before your fellows hale, erect can stand,
Enjoying all the sweets of ever sense.

While your fair brows, you heavenward raise with ease,
Beholding all the bustling scenes around,
And me, unshapely, bow’d with dire disease,
My vision stinted, all my frame unsound.

With thankfulness, with gratitude and praise
To Him, whose watchful eye is over all,
Your hearts, your mind, your voice to Heaven raise,
That my misfortune did you not befall.

And while your limbs are hale and fee from pain,
Health blooming, your companion, night and day,
At poverty repine not, nor complain,
Though gold and riches lie not in your way.

Would you, who thirst for wealth or power desire,
When you my uncouth form and sufferings see,
Your longing to gratify, retire
From the hale circle, and exchange with me?

Would all the gold, which California yields,
Tempt you to take my form, and aching head?
Or all the wealth that reaped on India’s field?
If not, reflect, how poor I am, indeed!

Would you, whose coffers gold and silver fill,
Whose income yearly, hundred thousand tell,
Choose rather, if the choice were at your will,
Become like me, or all your wealth expel?

If you all wealth would banish from your sight…
Would health and form preserve, what e’er they cost;
By this crierian, exercised aright,
You may appreciate what I have lost.

I would not, friends, excite your mirth or glee,
Nor down your cheeks induce the tears to roll,
Unless those tears again could gathered be,
To the calm fountain of the tranquil soul;

And there excite the peaceful, quiet mind
To resignation, placid, sweet content,
And gratitude to heaven, good and kind,
Who, to your lot, has better fortune sent.

Yet, think not, while affliction’s cruel hand
Presses me down, and holds unyielding sway,
That I, a human, living wonder stand,
Stoic in soul, with heart as cold as clay:

With joy, I often look to the heaven above,
Thank God for mercies and benignant care,
Rejoice, that through his kind and tender love,
I, still so many earthly blessings share.

I thank Him that the hearts of men are kind,
That while I live and wander here below,
So many sympathizing friends I find,
Such friendly treatment, too, where’er I go.

I’m thankful, too, that woman’s angel heart,
The same in every clime, in every land,
In sorrow’s vestry, always acts its part,
To raise the object with a tender hand.

Though gay and sportive, as a fairy queen,
How soon she melts at the scenes of bitter woe!
Down her fair cheeks, my eyes have often seen,
The crystal fountain of hear heart, so flow.

I’ve seen her in the village—in the town,
In crowded streets, and marked the silent tear.
I’ve met her sigh, but ne’er her haughty frown,
Her words unpleasant, never greet my ear.

In towns or cities, little children kind,
Treat not the cripple scornfully nor rude;
Among them, many precious friends I find,
With minds and hearts, like little angels good.

They look with wonder, pity and surprise,
Nor insult, to my sorrows, ever add;
From them, no shouts of ridicule arise;
Their kindness, too, has oft my heart made glad.

Through many a seeming long, and tedious year,
Such torture racked my mortal, shattered frame.
That grateful, thankful—even joy sincere
I feel, at relaxation of my pain.

In resignation there is joy and peace,
Whate’er my lot, whata’er my form may be;
Faith, Hope, and Charity those joys increase,
And soothe my mind in dark adversity.

In that celestial bright and happy land,
Beyond the vale of sorrow, pain and tears,
Where I, erect in glory, hope to stand,
In faith and hope, the future bright appears.

I thank you kindly, sympathizing friends—
Your favors, your kind patronage implore;
On these alone, my earthly weal depends—
Farewell: — and peace be with you evermore.

Leonard Trask, The first written documented case of Ankylosing Spondylitis in the USA.