Poems (Kennedy)/Charity
For works with similar titles, see Charity.
CHARITY
IS it to drop full carelessly A penny in the beggar's handAnd salve the conscience with the thanks The whining crone has planned?
Is it to feed a hungry mouth With leavings from a board well spread,The bits of meat we cast away, The hardest crusts of broken bread?
Is it to clothe a naked child Or freezing man against the storm,With worn-out garments which have ceased To keep our pampered bodies warm?
Is this, then, all of charity, These carnal gifts of man to man?Nay; these were but the outer husks In Christ's revivifying plan.
To stop thine ears 'gainst evil tales Of slander and of shame;To say, "judge not," when wanton tongues Befoul with sneers a once fair name—
To guard thy lips close-shut lest they Join in the hounding, coward cryWith which a horde of censurers Drives forth a lonely soul to die—
To hold thyself too pure and true To trample on another's woe,Believing what thou hast not seen, Condemning what thou canst not know—
To do these things is best to use The charity that Christ decreed,For transient are the body's wants, Eternal is the spirit's need.
Thou canst not read another heart Nor probe the mysteries of life;Thou knowest not 'gainst what deadly odds Was waged the bitter, long-drawn strife.
Nor canst thou tell what ground was held, How near the triumph was complete;One postern lost, the world condemns And on the banner writes "Defeat."
If we slay man, his brother man Extorts of us the murderer's dole;God judges when, with word unjust, We thrust aside a stricken soul!
So owe we it to Christ himself To judge with his sweet charityThose who, half hid in censure's cloud, Walk in their dread Gethsemane!