POVERTY.
The Lord maketh poor, and maketh rich: He bringeth low, and lifteth up.—I. Samuel, ii. 7.
Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me;
Lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.—Proverbs, xxx. 8, 9.
Blessed be ye poor: for yours is the kingdom of God.—Luke, vi. 20.
In a great trial of affliction, the abundance of their joy, and their deep poverty, abounded unto the riches of their liberality.—II. Corinthians, viii. 2.
If well thou view’st us with no squinted eye,
No partial judgment, thou wilt quickly rate
Thy wealth no richer than my poverty;
My want no poorer than thy rich estate.
Our ends and births alike, in this as I,
Poor thou wert born, and poor again shalt die.
My little fills my little-wishing mind,
Thou having more than much, yet seekest more;
Who seeks, still wishes what he seeks to find;
Who wishes, wants; and whoso wants, is poor:
Then this must follow of necessity,
Poor are thy riches, rich my poverty.
Though still thou gett’st, yet is thy want not spent,
But as thy wealth, so great thy wealthy itch;
But with my little I have great content—
Content hath all, and who hath all is rich;
Then this in reason thou must needs confess,
If I have little, yet that thou hast less.
Whatever man possesses, God has lent,
And to his audit liable is ever,
To reckon how, and where, and when he spent.
Then thus thou bragg’st thou art a great receiver.
Little my debt, when little is my store,
The more thou hast, thy debt still grows the more.
But seeing God himself descended down,
T’ enrich the poor by His deep poverty,
His meat, his house, his grave were not his own,
Yet all is His from all eternity;
Let me be like my Head, whom I adore,
Be thou great, wealthy, I still base and poor.
Phineas Fletcher.
I would be great, but that the sun doth still
Level his rays against the rising hill;
I would be high, but see the proudest oak,
Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke;
I would be rich, but see men, too unkind,
Dig in the bowels of the richest mine:
I would be wise, but that I often see
The fox suspected, whilst the ass goes free:
I would be fair, but see the fair and proud,
Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cloud:
I would be poor, but know the humble grass
Still trampled on by each unworthy ass;
Rich hated: wise suspected: scorn’d if poor:
Great fear’d: fair tempted: high still envied more:
I have wish’d all; but now I wish for neither;
Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair; poor I’ll be rather.
Sir Henry Wotton.
No soil like poverty for growth divine,
As leanest land supplies the richest mine.
Earth gives too little, giving only bread,
To nourish pride, or turn the weakest head.
Cowper.
Around each pure, domestic shrine,
Bright flowers of Eden bloom and twine;
Our hearths are altars all:
The prayers of hungry souls and poor,
Like armed angels at the door,
Our unseen foes appal.
Keble.
And what is want? ’Tis virtue’s test:
What weakness? An escape from pride:
That life on earth may be the best
In which, by woe, the soul is tried:
For He whose word is ever sure,
Hath said that “Blessed are the Poor.”
H. H. Weld.
If poverty—a bitter medicine—cure
The soul’s distempers, blessed are the poor;
Yea, if ye be Christ’s poor, thrice blessed men are ye.
Thomas McKellar.