One touch of nature makes the whole world kin

'Tis night, the scene's a blood-stained battle field,
A truce 'till morning seek the deadly foes;
The rival armies fought, but none would yield,
The weary soldiers crave a brief repose;
Ah, many a gallant heart in death is stilled,
And many a comrade mourns a comrade dear;
With dreams of glory ev'ry soldier's thrilled,
Tho' death is nigh, no thought have they of fear.

Crouching 'round the camp fires, in the ruddy glow,
While the watchful sentries pace there to and fro;
Waiting for the morning, then to face the foe,
Eager all, a heroes' name to win;
"We've been good old chums. Jack, naught could part us two,
If my time has come, Jack, and if spared are you,
Tell the little girl I love, I was ever true,"
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.

'Tis Christmas Eve, the joyous bells ring out,
They seem to say, "Good will and peace to all;"
The village sleeps, nor heeds the royster's shout,.
And silence reigns there in the rich man's hall;
But see! a burglar plies his lawless trade,
With muffled feet and eager, watchful eyes,
On plunder bent, of capture not afraid,
He grimly whispers, "He who'd cross me, dies."

Creeping there so stealthy in the silent gloom,
Searching for his plunder all around the room,
"I'll stop not at murder, though death be my doom,"
Desperate is his heart and steeped in sin;
Hark: a tiny voice there. "Take me on your knee!
Are you Santa Claus? please, no toys can I see!"
"Goodnight, little darling one, kiss me, pray for me!"
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.

Before the Judge defiantly she stands,
Poor outcast drifting on the sea of life;
The drink fiend holds her as in iron bands,
Too helpless she to struggle in the strife;
But slowly, surely drifting, sinking down,
And yet she once was some poor mother's pride;
Now reckless there nor heeds the Judge's frown,
Poor Magdalen, far better she had died.

I was once so pure, sir, innocent and young,
Till the tempter came, sir, with his lying tongue,
What cared he though my heart was with anguish wrung,
Though I drifted in the path of sin;
In the village church I used to kneel in prayer,
Would you know the name of him who laid the snare?
You were my betrayer, sir, judge me, if you dare,
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.