Poets heap virtues, painters gems, at will,
And show their zeal, and hide their want of skill.

Poets heap virtues, painters gems, at will,
And show their zeal, and hide their want of skill.

Soft peace she brings, wherever she arrives:
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives:
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Soft peace she brings, wherever she arrives:
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives:
Lays the rough paths of peevish Nature even,
And opens in each heart a little Heaven.

What we frankly give, forever is our own.

What we frankly give, forever is our own.

Awake, my soul! stretch every nerve,
And press with vigour on;
A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
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Awake, my soul! stretch every nerve,
And press with vigour on;
A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
And an immortal crown.

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity
vaulteth not itself, is not puffed up.

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity
vaulteth not itself, is not puffed up.

In silence, . . .
Steals on soft-handed Charity,
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free,
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In silence, . . .
Steals on soft-handed Charity,
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free,
By time and place,
Till not a woe the bleak world see,
But finds her grace.

For zeal's a dreadful termagant,
That teaches saints to tear and cant.

For zeal's a dreadful termagant,
That teaches saints to tear and cant.

But zeal moved thee;
To please thy gods thou didst it!

But zeal moved thee;
To please thy gods thou didst it!

Charity is a virtue of the heart, and not of the hands.

Charity is a virtue of the heart, and not of the hands.