Those godlike men, to wanting virtue kind,

Bounty well placed preferred, and well designed,

To all their titles.

Dryden.

How full of cheer,

Joyous, devout, and grateful is the soul

To see again its unexhausted God

Thus pile the table of a world with bread!

For what’s the globe on which we all subsist?

The table of immortal bounty ’tis,