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I The man of charity extends
To all a liberal hand;
His pity may command.
He hears when they complain;
And lessen all their pain.
And all the sons of grief,
He loves to give relief.
And charity pursue ;
And love as angels do.
L. M. SALISBURY Col. 1 O God, our Father and our King,
Of all we have or hope, the spring;
And fill our hearts with holy lore. 2 May we from every act abstain
That hurts, or gives our neighbor pain,
That would abridge his happiness.
To act ihe friend to all mankind;
4 With pity may our breasts o'erflow,
When we bebold a wretch in wo;
With all who are of heavy heart.
An image fair, though faint, of thine ;
A. Ballou. 1 BREATHE, Father, through my soul
Thy Spirit's balmy breath,
An image of thyself.
Of sympathetic fire,
With merciful desire.
Become my chief delight;
My pitying breast excite.
And tear respond to tear;
My conscience ever sear,
S. M. 1 I HEAR a voice of wo!
I hear a brother's sigh!
With tears of love mine eye.
2 I hear the thirsty cry!
The hungry beg for bread!
My hand its bounty shed. 3 The debtor humbly sues,
Who would but cannot pay ;
Who need it every day!
4 If not, how shall I dare
Appear before thy face,
For thy forgiving grace!
1 Ler men of high conceit and zeal
Their fervor and their faith proclaim;
The rest is but a sounding name.
And slowly her resentments rise ;
And soon the passion dies.
And will forever brightly burn,
1 Give as God hath given thee,
With a bounty large and free;
Give thy needy brother more.
Forms, in tattered raiment dressed ;
Give as God hath given th
Strength to succor and redress;
1 Why should I pause, when at my door
A shivering mortal stands,
Or why he help demands? 2 Why should I
that brother's prayer
And say that I have none?
3 The voice of Charity is kind,
She seeketh nothing wrong,
Nor vaunteth with her tongue. 4 In penitence she pleadeth faith,
Hope smileth at the door,
Go, brother, sin no more.
1 Caide mildly the erring ! kind language en
dears ; Grief follows the sinful-add not to their tears, Forbear with reproaches fresh pain to bestow; The heart which is stricken needs never a
2 Chide mildly the erring! jeer not at their fall! If strength were but human, how weakly
were all! What marvel that footsteps should wander astray,
When tempests so darken life's wearisome way! 3 Chide mildly the erring ! entreat them with
care ! Their natures are mortal, they need not despair; We all have some frailty, we all are unwise, And the grace which redeems us must shine
from the skies.