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, The knowledge of her God.
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"Nor faith, nor hope, whate'er their force,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, William Hayley delivers a powerful performance in "Hymn on Charity."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...