Love Of Brothers and Sisters

What ever brawls are in the street
There should be peace at home;
Where sisters dwell and brothers meet
Quarrels shou’d never come.
Birds in their little nests agree;
And `tis a shameful sight,
When children of one family
Fall out, and chide, and fight.

Hard names at first, and threatening words,
That are but noisy breath,
May grow to clubs and naked swords,
To murder and to death.

The devil tempts one mother’s son
To rage against another:
So wicked Cain was hurried on,
Till he had kill’d his brother.

The wise will make their anger cool
At least before `tis night;
But in the bosom of a fool
It burns till morning light.

Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage;
Our little brawls remove;
That as we grow to riper age,
Our hearts may all be love.

— Isaac Watts