Charity

Bear and forbear, I counsel thee,
Forgive and be forgiven,
For Charity is the golden key
That opens the gate of heaven.

Hanford Lennox Gordon

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Hanford Lennox Gordon

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English

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Charity

Frail are the best of us, brothers
God's charity cover us all
Yet we ask for perfection in others,
And scoff when they stumble and fall.
Shall we give him a fish or a serpent
Who stretches his hand in his need?
Let the proud give a stone, but the manly
Will give him a hand full of bread.

Let us search our own hearts and behavior
Ere we cast at a brother a stone,
And remember the words of the Savior
To the frail and unfortunate one;
Remember when others displease us
The Nazarene's holy command,
For the only word written by Jesus
Was charity writ in the sand.

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Charity

I

Unarmed she goeth; yet her hands
Strike deeper awe than steel-caparison'd bands.
No fatal hurt of foe she fears, -
Veiled, as with mail, in mist of gentle tears.


II

'Gainst her thou canst not bar the door:
Like air she enters, where none dared before.
Even to the rich she can forgive
Their regal selfishness, - and let them live!

George Parsons Lathrop

Charity : A Paraphrase On 1 Cor. Chap. 13

Did sweeter Sounds adorn my flowing Tongue,
Than ever Man pronounc'd, or Angel sung:
Had I all Knowledge, Human and Divine,
That Thought can reach, or Science can define;
And had I Pow'r to give that Knowledge Birth,
In all the Speeches of the babbling Earth:
DidShadrach's Zeal my glowing Breast inspire,
To weary Tortures, and rejoice in Fire:
Or had I Faith like That whichIsrael saw,
WhenMoses gave them Miracles, and Law:

Yet, graciousCharity, indulgent Guest,
Were not Thy Pow'r exerted in my Breast;
Those Speeches would send up unheeded Pray'r:
That Scorn of Life would be but wild Despair:
A Tymbal's Sound were better than my Voice:
My Faith were Form: my Eloquence were Noise.
Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,
Softens the high, and rears the ab...

Matthew Prior

Hymn on Charity.

Nor faith, nor hope, whate'er their force,
Can aught avail the soul,
Should charity not guide its course
To glory's heavenly goal.
The songs of wisdom, tho' they soar
To notes that seraphs swell,
If she be wanting, are no more
Than folly's tinkling bell.

A thousand shapes, as bright as morn,
Sweet Charity assumes,
And all the hues of Heaven adorn
Her variegated plumes.
'Tis she with consolation's voice
That stills affliction's storm,
She bids despairing want rejoice
In bounty's radiant form.

But with what semblance is she seen,
That more her power endears,
Than when with mild instruction's mien
Her infant train she rears?
Then she the earth-bound spirit lifts
Above the valley's clod,
Then gives the richest of her gifts...

William Hayley

Forbearance

(Beareth all things. - 1 Cor. xiii. 7.)

Gently I took that which ungently came,
And without scorn forgave: Do thou the same.
A wrong done to thee think a cat's-eye spark
Thou wouldst not see, were not thine own heart dark.
Thine own keen sense of wrong that thirsts for sin,
Fear that, the spark self-kindled from within,
Which blown upon will blind thee with its glare,
Or smother'd stifle thee with noisome air.
Clap on the extinguisher, pull up the blinds,
And soon the ventilated spirit finds
Its natural daylight. If a foe have kenn'd,
Or worse than foe, an alienated friend,
A rib of dry rot in thy ship's stout side,
Think it God's message, and in humble pride
With heart of oak replace it; thine the gains
Give him the rotten timber for his pains!

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Love one Another.

Let's love one another, it's better bi far;
Mak peace wi yor Brother - it's better nor war!
Life's rooad's rough enuff, - let's mak it mooar smooth,
Let's sprinkle awr pathway wi kindness an love.
Ther's hearts at are heavy, and een at are dim,
Ther's deep cups o' sorrow at's full up to th' brim;
Ther's want an misfortun, - ther's crime an ther's sin;
Let's feight 'em wi Love, - for Love's sarten to win.

Give yor hand, - a kind hand, - to yor brother i' need,
Dooant question his conduct, or ax him his creed, -
Nor despise him becoss yo may think he's nooan reight,
For, maybe, some daat whether yo're walkin straight.
Dooant set up as judge, - it's a dangerous plan,
Luk ovver his failins, - he's nobbut a man;
Suppooas at he's one at yo'd call 'a hard case,'
Wha...

John Hartley