Blest is the meekened spirit given
To hush affliction's piercing throe;
Soft, as the dews distilled from heaven,
Yet purer, than the printless snow.
And blest religion's light benign,
Whose charm arrests the embrio care,
Leads the young mind to mercy's shrine,
And wins the infant's grateful prayer.
To save from ruin's hurrying flame,
Or ravish from the whelming wave,
How bright the tributary fame!
How rich the meed, that waits the brave!
Nor shall the muse forget the power,
Whose secret gifts, to pity paid,
Protect the modest, opening flower,
And shelter in its fostering shade.
Sweet Charity, thy voice divine
Can every balm of care impart;
The praise of rescued want is thine,
The incense of the feeling heart.
With thee, when hope's gay dreams have fled,
Shall memory whisper notes of peace;
O'er death's dark courts a lustre`shed,
And smooth the path to life's release.
For those, whose ears are never deaf
The cries of suffering woe to hear,
Whose hands dispense the wished relief,
Whose smiles illume the orphan's tear;
Not vain the promised blessings flow;
High heaven approves the sweet employ;
Tho here in tears of grief they sow,
Yet shall they reap immortal joy.