When God Weeps With Us: Finding Comfort in Shared Sorrow
Lessons from William Blake’s On Another’s Sorrow and the compassionate heart of Christ
I have stared into the void and into the darkest depths of grief caused by this fallen world, both from the sidelines and headlong as a participant. I have sat at the bedside of church members as their loved ones passed. I have been in the midst of the struggles of being a medical parent and a parent of a child with disabilities. I have watched children bury their parents and parents bury their children.
This week, I have been searching for words to describe this phenomenon. In my search, I came across a poem by William Blake, On Another’s Sorrow. It was published in 1789 as part of Songs of Innocence and of Experience, appearing as the last song in the Songs of Innocence section.
In it, Blake reflects on the suffering we feel when we watch others suffer and draws our eyes to our Lord, who came and wept with us. Like a loving Father, He feels our suffering with us. As the Psalmist says: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”(Psalm 34:18)
I have included the poem below and hope that you are blessed.
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear –
And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear?
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.
O He gives to us His joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled and gone
He doth sit by us and moan.
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear –
And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear?
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.
O He gives to us His joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled and gone
He doth sit by us and moan.
