Poems (Pizey)/On Charity
ON CHARITY.
O lovely spirit, heaven-born Charity!
Luxury of feeling to the tender mind;
Sister of peace and sweet humanity,
Thou dearest pleasure that the virtuous find.
Luxury of feeling to the tender mind;
Sister of peace and sweet humanity,
Thou dearest pleasure that the virtuous find.
They best can prove how happiest to live,
Who to enjoy thee from gay pleasure steal;
They know how blest the hand empower'd to give,
How blest the heart that has the power to feel.
Who to enjoy thee from gay pleasure steal;
They know how blest the hand empower'd to give,
How blest the heart that has the power to feel.
How many live but to abuse that power!
How many scorn the joys which thou dost give!
Ah! could they feel them for one fleeting hour,
They'd wish no higher pleasure to receive.
How many scorn the joys which thou dost give!
Ah! could they feel them for one fleeting hour,
They'd wish no higher pleasure to receive.
They never tasted pleasure's true enjoyment,
Who tread the paths by dissipation strew'd;
They never saw joy's brightest ornament—
The silent tear of heart-felt gratitude.
Who tread the paths by dissipation strew'd;
They never saw joy's brightest ornament—
The silent tear of heart-felt gratitude.